There’s a thing

Deep in my belly thats tied and knotted up

The last time I didn’t pay attention to it I spent 6 months in my bed with my curtains drawn and my lips parched

Salty from my own tears.


Dear You

Dear you,

Don’t let your bones be a mixture of anger and marrow.

Don’t let your mouth sing its song everyday.

Don’t let it consume you

Dont let it fuel your dreams.

Dear you,

Don’t treat your heart like a public space.

Dont let everyone sit and marvel at its walls.

It holds your joy.

And your joy is precious gold.

Dear you,

Don’t get used to sadness.

Don’t think of it as your favourite chair feeling out of place if you are not in it.

Pain is not comfortable

It’s only numbing.


10 years ago I met a guy, we created our own version of heaven but then he left and being in heaven alone felt a lot like hell. 

So 9 times like a cat I tried to bring our love back to life. But he always chose her. 

Her with a body shaped like an 8 and some days I don’t blame him. Really.

But the heartbreak I felt then should be listed as one of the wonders of the world. Heck it pales them.

He said “I was young, I didn’t know better”

I said even 6 year olds know how to say sorry.

He said it and looked at me expectantly like he deserved 5 gold stars. 

All I really wanted to hear was that 4 letter word especially when its part of that over used 3 word phrase but like always it didn’t come.


Its 2 a.m. and instead of sleeping I am trying to convince myself he is not my the 1. And I’m failing miserably.

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.

7 Days

Day 1:
Why all the effort? Why all the lies ? Why walk into my life the first place and leave it a mess?
Why ask for love and throw it back in my face?

Day 2:
I was hoping to love him till forever,
but I guess that’s not going to happen
And I’m supposed to be fine but I am not.
I feel sad. I feel sad. I am sooo sad.

Day 3:
I need to paint. I need to write. I need to cry.
I need to get him out of my system.
I need to smoke him out, I need to drink him down.
I need to fuck another and let it go.

Day 4:
Its really over isn’t it?
There’s an organ in our bodies that lets us know when something is dead.
mine woke me with the chilling yet somehow warming realisation that its over.

Day 5:
Maybe this is why we never looked at the ceiling and talked after sex.
Maybe this is why he never felt like home, a nice lodge with a killer view of the ocean maybe, but never home.
Maybe this is why I hesitated.

Day 6:
Oh look the sun is still shining, the rain might fall, the wind still blows.
The world is still revolving.
The gray skies seem a little comforting.

Day 7:
You gave it your all
You wore your heart on your sleeve
Its not your fault your love is a sweet blend of Friday night and Sunday afternoon.
And his, well his is what you think Monday mornings are like without coffee.
Not your fault he left you and all you did was say the words.
Its not your fault you loved and you lost.

College and Pain.

I will be starting my last semester of college in less than two weeks. To say I am nervous is an understatement. I am freaking out, not just by the academic work but because I will be closing a chapter I thoroughly enjoyed  and I dont know whether the next chapter of my life will be equally nice.
I started college when I was 16, a good thing really because with the many uncertainities of life finishing school early is good. A bad thing too, because Uni/College is (partial) freedom and to a 16 year old it is pretty disastrous. Plus the upkeep allowance given to me by govt on top of the pocket money from home wasn’t such a healthy recipe. I remember spending the two weeks of orientation drinking daily with my friends. I however made pretty good choices in my first year. Funny thing, as the years go by my most regretable moments and decisions (or powerful lessons, depending on how you look at it) were made in third year. 

I read some article about things to do in college, one of the things was to get your heart broken (or go through a great loss), the reason being that heartbreak is a good teacher and guides you in your choices. After a heartbreak you know what you don’t want. (Somehow what you really want is never such a clear cut thing). Anyhu, I’ve been suffered such  great loss twice in my stay at this institution of higher learning. I know the difference between bruised egos and heartbreak. My first heart break (i am not keeping a record I swear) there was a lot of drinking and smoking and more smoking to just get through. I was completely shocked and betrayed I did everything to numb the pain. My most recent heartbreak, I cried. I cried because pain deserves to be felt. I literally went (while watching an episode of Greys Anatomy, the one where April and Jackson give birth to their baby) when it finally hit me what was really going on. According to the scripts six degrees of separation I was on the third degree. My world was literally splitting down the middle. Hearts break and you feel them. Yes the heart is the thing that pumps blood but the heart that breaks is so intertwined with the soul that when it is shattered your soul is never the same. He broke me, more than I admit to people. And the worst thing is I know he like(s)d  me and probably love(s)d me. But its just not enough for him to want to be with me. I know this sounds so scientific but science says it takes seven years for your body to replace all cells in it, so in about six years and some months from now he will not know me.
Atleast this time I didn’t make any rush decisions like the last time.

See how loss helps you deal with future loss.