Love, cynicism and other theories.

So my friend sent me this monologue and I related so much I just had to share.

I used to be a hopeless romantic. I’m not entirely sure when that became a past tense statement. Somehow, over time, I’ve become a cynic when it comes to love and romance. I like to think of myself more of a cynical romantic, though even that might be a little pretentious of me. I love the idea of love. It’s magical, it’s everything I want someday, and I truly do believe it is one of the most exuberant feelings human kind is capable of feeling. I just don’t realistically believe it is something that will ever happen for me.

In theory, it’s lovely. In reality, it’s exhausting. Spoken like a true cynical romantic…see how that works?

Maybe I’ve just become impatient. Maybe I have had one too many ghosts leave me feeling skeptical of its existence. Or maybe I’m just butt hurt over the fact that I am 20 years old and cannot ever seem to be anything more than the “almost” girl in “almost” relationships. Yet somehow there are chicks out there who break up with their boyfriend and a week later have already somehow met and are dating a new dude…

Call me eager, but I cannot wait to invest an insane amount of love and time into someone who I have reciprocated feelings with. The hopeless romantic in me would tell you that it is worth the wait. She would have said,

“Baby, you’re only 20 years old. You’re going to get those butterflies one day. You’re going to be so damn happy that you didn’t waste that energy giving it to some fuckboy. Pretty girl, you don’t need to be giving your love to someone just for the sake of having it to give…you’re gonna hold out and give it to the one who makes hold your breath in anticipation when he pulls up to your house to take you out. Stop wanting it so bad. He’ll come to you, he’s out there. Just keep doing you, babe.”

Somewhere along the way, I lost the idea that a guy would even be capable of ever picking me up. Cynical me knows there’s the chance we could schedule a day or a night, a time or a place, but that doesn’t mean he is going to follow through. When did I go from wishing for a boy who shakes my daddy’s hand when he picks me up, to simply hoping to dear god he doesn’t flake out before I tell my friends about him? When did we stop telling our friends about the boy we’ve started talking to, because we don’t want to jinx it or have to explain the next night how it’s already over before it even began? When do we admit to ourselves that the nice guy who loves his mom and kisses us on the forehead, can also be guy who sleeps with us and then doesn’t follow up the next day…or ever?

When did I become the cynic who automatically assumes and expects every “nice” guy to turn into that second guy?

I believe in love. I believe in its magic. I also believe that I try too hard sometimes to push back the hopeless romantic in me. She’s still there and sometimes she finds her naive little self making an appearance. As much as I want to believe that I am too smart to fall for the games that exist in romance, I’m subject to have my weak moments. In fact, I have fallen into these games many times, and have always lost. Which is a major reason I have trouble accepting the idea of real romance in my life anymore. Being cynical is the only defense I have. It’s the only way I can talk myself into not getting my hopes up, something I’m guilty of doing far too many times.

Babes, it’s okay to be cynical. Cynical means you are being realistic. You are guarding your heart. Protect the hell out of that beating mechanism because you don’t get a lot of control over how it feels, but you do have control on what feelings it acts on.

Be cynical, put your guard up, it’s okay. I know you’re constantly being told to let your guard down, let someone in, stop being closed off, but I’m telling you to do what you need to do to protect your own fucking heart. It took becoming a cynical romantic for me to do that. It took realizing that not every guy who walks me to my truck, and pushes my hair behind my ear while telling me I’m beautiful is going to be a good guy. Allow yourself to lust over the idea of him, but realize that guy is just as capable of intentionally hurting you, as is the guy who straight up tells you he doesn’t want anything more than an open door and a good time. Be cynical.

It’s okay to protect your heart and keep your walls up. Just don’t forget that you’re going to have to open that locked door and let visitors in sometimes.

Be a romantic. You can’t always live in fear and assumption. Maybe that nice guy…really is, get this, a nice guy. *Gasp.

See, it’s okay to be a romantic. Just don’t be hopelessly dependent on romance.Babe, it’s okay to be cynical. Just don’t be independently oblivious to the idea that not only does love exist, but it is just as magical as the movies make it seem, and you are just as capable of finding it as anyone else.

Think with your head like a cynic and love with your heart like a romantic…or maybe it’s the other way around? Who am I to know…I’m just a 20-something getting giddy over eye contact and stressing out on whether or not to keep my Bumble app.
End of monologue.


The Year that was

2016 has been like standing at the top of a slope and thinking ‘The slope isn’t that steep’ then finding out after you take a step forward that you were actually at the edge of a cliff. That you are falling into a dark bottomless pit. 

Basically its been shitty. Apart from life I only have one thing I’m grateful for this year and that’s my graduation.everything else has been shitty. From broken dreams tolosing loved ones. To dreading sunrises because that means another day of unanswered prayers has gone by. To depression. Broken heart, spirit and soul. I just didn’t want to live anymore.

How do I plan to live 2017? With zero expectations.Getting a tattoo because I’ve finally found the perfect one. Saving up because this year has taught me that. And letting go of the things I can’t change. 
Hope y’all enjoy your New Years Eve. And continue reading my rants. 

Life Update

Dear Reader,

I apologise for the silence.

I have been uninspired. I am still uninspired. I feel like my life is a carousel, a 24 hour carousel. Its moving but it’s really just going around in cycles.

I hope to find something worth sharing with you in me. 

Life and Chess

I’ve been playing a lot of chess lately and though I’m not so good at it I’ve learned a lot of lessons from it. Yes dear reader, this is a motivational post.

So the average game of chess has 32 pieces with 16 pawn pieces. And generally, pawns are just that, pawns. They are used to trap a more valuable piece (Queen, bishop, rook or Knight). They are considered indispensable.

Pawns do get promoted to Queen. Bishop, rook or knight if one plays their cards right and makes right moves. My point is in life we all get assigned different roles, we all get defined differently, we all get different ‘starting points’. But that shouldn’t bother us, that shouldn’t matter, because just like a pawn piece we may get promoted to something bigger and better if we try, if we work hard and if we don’t give up. 

So basically don’t give up. Life is a game of chess, think of your moves before you make them.

For further clarification, this is my dictionary’s definition of pawn:

(colloquial) Someone who is being manipulated or used to some end, usually not the end that individual would prefer

It Can’t Happen to Me

Guess what? It can. And it probably will. Sorry to burst your bubble.

Recently, four days ago type of recent, I’ve had something I never thought would happen to me happen to me. I 100% thought “yeah, it happens. But to them. Not people like me”. Get this you and I, we are the them.

I have been (am) young and wild and reckless. Most (young) people are. We make decisions either fully aware of the consequences if it turns out bad or not aware of the consequences at all. We call ourselves risk takers, we call ourselves young wild and free, we call it living life in the moment because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed right? Well right. But everything has a limit. Freedom is only free so much until it imprisons you. Wildness is only so wild until it tames you. Living life in the moment is only fun until tomorrow comes. Recklessness is only so thrilling until you crash. And 99.99999999999% of the time crash you will. 

I’ve crashed. I am burning. I’ve finally fully comprehended just how selfish, self-centred and reckless my actions were. I’ve hurt and disappointed people I love. People who mean so much I just want to make them proud and keep the smile on their face. I’ve learned that your life is not your own, you have people counting on you, rooting for you praying for you, cheering you on. And your failure is their failure. Your recklessness is their hurt and disappointment.

I am kinda glad I’ve crashed. This is the wake up call I so desperately needed. I don’t know how I will mend the relationships I’ve broken or earn back that trust but I am determined to be careful in my decisions and hope God helps me work this out.


Life is one big canvas.

Most of us know this, but few of us fully understand this. 

I just got an epiphany on this Life is a canvas phrase and felt I should share it.

A canvas is one big blank sheet of paper (usually white) and artists express themselves with different colours of paint on it, painting beautiful masterpieces like Picasso. 

Life is the same. We get a big blank sheet of paper and all these colours of paint, which I realised are decisions. The decisions we make get painted on the canvas, both the good and the bad. After a decision is made we (the ones who bother with introspection) take a step back and look at the follow up consequences, the painting so far. We may not like the consequences and wish to start over, get a new canvas, paint a new picture but alas (dramatic I know but I couldn’t find a better word). We only get one canvas, one life. So maybe we take out the white paint and paint over the bright bad paint that ruined the picture but alas (again refer above) hues*. You can still see the bright paint under the white if you look closely. But then again, maybe you don’t have white paint on the selection of paints. Maybe there is no starting over. Our decisions are paint after all not pencils. We don’t get the eraser.

So,in living life, I’ve decided to think more of the bigger picture I am trying to paint. I am not going to choose paints recklessly and end up with an ugly messy canvas. Rather I will choose the right colours and maybe seek help from more experienced artists (the old and gray who now know better) because life is one big canvas not an art exhibition with paintings showing the phases of our life.