Anxious readings, physical reminders, and comparison

Vent session because I keep on internalizing this and it bothers me a lot:

#1: Before, during, and after I read this thing, I feel anxious. I don't know why. Whenever I read it, I get scared. I try to rationalize my thoughts but somehow, I end up making myself feel really shitty. As if there's going to be distance, awkwardness, and a wall between us. 

#2: I feel like me in his life now is a constant and hurtful reminder of what happened in the past. Because of our history, it's what he thinks about when he sees, talks to, and hears me. It's as if I'm the hidden friend or the black sheep among his other perfect and pure white sheep. What happened has done a lot of damage and I can't help but feel like he's ashamed to to say anything about me because there's nothing good to say. I'm trying to keep a positive attitude after everything but I'm human. I get insecure and anxious about the unknown of what'll happen to us in the future. I can't help but compare myself to his other friends because I have this perfect image of them whenever he talks about them and then there's me. A physical reminder of what happened. Someone that cannot live up to a expectation of who deserves to be his friend. 

And then it reminds me of what happened and what I felt: Jealousy. 

"I'm not pretty like her."

"I'm not smart like her."

"I'm not talented like her."

"I want to know why she's so special to him because I want to be."

But then again, there are some things best left unsaid. 

Take it away from me or replace it with something better

I just came home from a wedding and I'm just feeling eh. The wedding reception was pretty cool, but it kinda felt like a low-key prom. Ahh prom...
.
.
.
The one thing that stands out to me the most was that one heartbreaking moment I had. My hands felt numb, my body heating up, my eyes tearing up, a burning lump in my throat. And With You by Chris Brown was playing. That image of them. God, I wish you can take it away or replace it with something better.
.
.
.
I hate that song. I fucking hate that song.
.
.
.
I was in the car on my way to the wedding and I was letting my mind drift. I thought about something that would give me an emotional breakdown + a panic attack if it ever happened.

I was stuck in a room with him and her. The door was locked. I kept screaming and yelling for someone to open the door but no one would. I kept crying and crying and eventually my legs gave out. I sat on the floor in a corner with my back turned away from them. I squeezed my eyes shut, covered my ears with my hands and kept my knees close to my chest. I cried and I cried.

And that's it.