A Year In The Life

This year has been hard. This week has been crazy. This day has been hectic. It has been sad.


One moment.

How far are you from breaking point?

Put it into perspective. If you were placed on a cliff right at this moment, and offered no consequences, no questions, would you jump?

It’s not that bad, is it?

Is it?

It may be, but, wait.

Just one moment, I apologize. Think about it one more time.

There it is.

How does that feel? It feels like you want to scream. Do you want to scream?

Yes. Yes I do. I shall weep.

It is so. It is so. It is so.

But there is some relief that comes with mourning

When you scream and let it out… Trying to let it go

A broken heart

An old wound that never healed

A difficult lover

A troubled conscience

Some therapy through release of intense emotion. A medication of self, just don’t you dare prevent the pain. You want to feel it, and feel it as it leaves your body.

I don’t promise you that this is the last time you cry about this one thing.

Don’t be strong.

Lose your mind. Cry your eyes out. Shout your voice hoarse, throat sore. Scream your lungs bloody.

Binge, indulge, sink.

So what?

There is release!


Would You Fix?

I will fix you

I don’t know

I do not know what you’re ailing from

I do not know how you feel.

I cannot even begin to imagine what kind of struggles you have been going through.

But I know

I know that…

… some days you’re numb. And that during the rest of them, you’re hurting so much and seemingly without release.

…the people you’ve loved have ruined you, and you have ruined those that loved you

…the things you hoped you would never have to struggle with have now become integral ingredients of your existence and that now, you’re living out your nightmares.

…it is unimaginable that you could forgive yourself and be happy.

… sometimes you about think a lot of things in such a short time that your head spins; other times you go hours, even days without feeling like you came up with any solid ideas at all.

…you don’t know why you’re where you are

…countless times, you have imagined what life for the people you love would be like with your absence, and it looked surprisingly appealing

…you regret so so many things that were both within and out of your control

I know.

I know that it has never been harder.

I know now that your faith is always being tested..

That your will to fight is almost nil

This breaks my heart more than you could ever imagine

But I Will Fix You.

With every little poem

Every little song

Every little book

Every little whisper

Every little kiss

I will plant them in your heart.

One by one

Train your mind to listen to your gut

It does not matter that you’re shattered, that you are more than simply broken.

If it’s two, or ten or a thousand pieces.

If you don’t think you’re fixable.

I will pick them all up

Until all of you sees, knows and believes how beautiful you are

Little by little, my love.

For Positive, for Posterity

We are fighting hard to stay happy.

We are going to be awake through it all.

All of it.

We shall not edit out a single detail.

We are going to live through it all.

All of it. Every single bit of it.

So that when you ask, ‘What about that time, when you said you couldn’t sleep?’, we would tell you about that day.

How exhausted we were. How tired our hearts were, of pumping blood to our jaded limbs that didn’t even want to be limbs anymore.

The fact that our lungs incessantly complained about pain. They said,’ No more. It hurts to breathe’. With every breath we took in and out. Yes. ‘Oh,’ we shall remember. How every breath felt like the last one. How we wished it was the last one. ‘It was so so painful.’

How glorious!

Yes, I know all we ever said was that we couldn’t sleep. Or couldn’t eat, or couldn’t go to work.

…but at that moment, when all of this is behind us, oh we shall speak!

We will narrate tales of how hard we fought to stay happy, even when we weren’t.

We will tell you that we never, at any moment, decided to anesthetize our souls. Or numb our spirits.

We will explain, to the detail, how alive we were when we were fighting for freedom.

How we felt each and every storm. As it came, as it endured, as it passed.

I promise you, we shall tell you!

Now, though. Let us fight. Let me fight!

She is Indifferent

MOOD: Indifferent
She is very unbothered by whatever is happening around her

Or she just doesn’t care to admit that there are certain things that are troubling her

Her train of thought races then suddenly stops

Now she’s deep into creating equations she hopes to make sense out of

People say these things come in a lifetime, I think they might be wrong

Some people never get a chance to feel that way
Some people get to experience it multiple times in their lifetime

She does not mind, however. This is not the first time she is unhappy, but it is the first time she is unhappy and okay with it.

She won’t even try to change it, she confesses, but today’s vodka is very bitter! So she will take the wine instead.

Little Pieces

I want to sit down with all those people who ever liked me and allowed themselves to fall for me because they thought I was pretty or ‘hot’.

I want to tell them, and to show them just how full of imperfections I am.
I want them to see that, that ideal perfection which they imagine they missed out on, was a very very very little piece of me… And that I am, in fact, so mostly imperfection, that my elegance is practically imperceptible.

I want to see the look on their faces when they discover that my pretty lips do more than just pout or give the most passionate of kisses. The horror when they discover that I have opinions, the kind to be voiced too!

I long to taste their disappointment when they realize that my soft fingers, however long and frail looking, know the meaning of hard work and despite the soft touching and caressing, do not need the mercy of their dimes to keep up and stay true to their power.

I yearn for them to look at me in the face, this time not for intent of a romantic or sensual moment. No. I want them to see the tears. Arranged chronologically, moving like PowerPoint slides. I want them to experience the duration, the frequency and the intensity. The temperature. The mood. The entire atmosphere of all those emotional moments. How shocking it must be to realize that beyond all the make up is an actual person, a strong person with powerful emotions and a heart that is bound to be broken!

I want them to see my bosom, and feel my chest. This time, not for the thrill or during the throes of passion. I want them to experience how many times I have been a pillar to a soul, a crying shoulder for another person and a home. How unbelievable it should be for one of their kind to come to terms with the fact that this bosom, with all its softness and smoothness, does more than just pleasing their hungry and ravenous male eyes!

I want them to know and believe that my beautiful hips that gyrate so erratically on the dance floor have also been the ones to sway so gracefully as I walked away from the worst of relationships and situations.

You like my long legs and smooth, clean shaven skin?

You see how my eyes light up whenever I talk about something I’m passionate about?

You see how I let you cut me mid sentence and I don’t seem to mind?

I want them to know that I have been hurt, by people, and my expectations…

That I have hurt people…

That my heart is always beating and that it is always full

And if they only want to have me because of how I look, or how I smile, or how I walk, or talk, or dance, they got a whole other thing coming.

I am way too imperfect to be a tool.

Roubles but without the T

I am watching Pirates of The Caribbean (that very old one from, I think the year, 2003. I was five years old then. HA!) for the first time.
I am also angry because I have a boyfriend who doesn’t care about me well enough (I have to summarize. I am disappointed) and I have said I am done close to a million times but then…

I don’t know.

I find that I say this a lot. Sometimes, I really actually do not know. This is one of those times.

I’m contemplating on ghosting for a few weeks or months, until I’m sure there’s nothing to go back to… Perhaps take on a new adventure (perhaps a new catch?) Anything to feel alive again. Like I actually matter, you know?

You should know, I am a huge anti-toxic relationships ambassador. I have done rigorous research and read on and on about how to identify, avoid and overcome unfulfilling relationships.

So, I know those things that are right. I know what I am supposed to do when I feel a certain way or when the partner acts or feels a certain way. Only they’re very hard to initiate and set going when the person on both ends of the conversation is myself.

Wherever strength to move on comes from, lead me to that source.

The picture is a goat I encountered a few days ago on a farm and is unrelated to my topic of discussion. I just thought he’s cute!

What’s worse than a cheating partner?

I’m not worried that he is cheating. Actually, he better be cheating than have forgotten about me. He better be dying or dead. His phone better be lost. All his fingers better be broken. He better be swimming in an ocean or river right now trying to save his life. He better be doing practically every other thing in the world. But to forget that I exist? That is unforgivable.

Frog vs. Snake

Baby snake swallowed by a frog

One of my dreams in life is to have so many animals. A whole lot of them, and that includes a frog or two. Reptiles, amphibians, birds, fish and all sorts of mammals, including farm animals 😄. I also love in-house plants. I picture myself living in a perfect little jungle-simulation house with all the space and fresh air and chirps and bellows of happy animals… And honestly that’s what I’ll calibrate my success by… A happy eco-friendly, clean-energy home.

Take Me Home

And everytime I feel like I deserve an explanation, I sit myself down, and I tell myself reasons why I shouldn’t feel entitled to anything. I outline them, so that I don’t forget. Each time.
‘This is probably just all in my head, and I really don’t matter that much, right?’ And I would rather not know. God forbid you said yes. And confirmed that it’s all been a lie. My lie to me, or your sweet sweet lie to me, that I picked up like a hungry raven and feasted upon for all this time
Do I care? Well. I don’t know. I don’t think I should. I have learned to not think that I should care. Conceal, don’t feel.

Everytime I feel like I’m overreacting, I train myself to deserve less, to want less, to have lower standards. So I don’t react at all. God forbid I said something, and upset you in the process.
Was I meant to ‘be humble’ like that? What is the line between humility, and having too low standards?

Every time I start to feel like you’re not enough, I start to wonder what really would be enough for me. Then I just don’t want it any more: I don’t want enough. I want you. So I convince myself that you’re enough- everything I need.

This is a game. Where you always win. And each time I start to feel anything, I have to stop. I am not allowed to be mad. I am not allowed to be childish. I can’t act out, and I can’t say what I want – because I don’t want to scare you away.
It’s crazy how heartache fills you with poetry. It’s crazier how fulfilling it is to be broken. While nothing is as lonely as happiness, it is still undoubtedly funny how sadness feels so much like home.

So, I will allow myself to get hurt. I shall stay up late, forgiving you from the bottom of my heart. I shall always let the blame fall on me. I shall apologize for your mistakes. I shall apologize for being displeased. I shall apologize for my emotions… I shall faithfully try to not feel any pain at all. I swear. The melodious sound of my weeping heart will soothe me to sleep, during any other hour of the day. I shall break hard. I shall fall apart so effortlessly. It will hurt terribly, to the point where I can physically feel it. When it is over, I will taste that regret so clearly on my own tongue.
But still, I shall not learn. I will always seek to have my heart broken, and my mind changed, my decisions questioned and my presence disregarded. I will always go back to you to get hurt, that is my home.


When you told me that you had ran out of love with me, that you had run out of ways of showing love to me, that you were done trying to love me the best way you could, something happened. Something both so liberating and overpowering.
It took me some time but in the end, I did act it out.
I cried my eyes out, not for any particular reason. Mostly, I usually tend to think is because I was sad, broken by the fact that me casting my beautiful net out into the sea didn’t in anyway, make me catch beautiful fish. Those are the times when I got to analyse feelings, and to really get behind them. Ed Sheeran – it’s too cold outside for angels to fly, finally made sense to me. I was curious how he got to feel this way, and to be able to put it in actual words, and explain to me exactly that what I felt at that moment, even when I had no idea what the hell that was. Surely then, he must have hurt, bad
This big lump.
You know, really… I don’t know what taking care of yourself means. To let go and go wild, or to tame it and reserve self? To party like an animal, or get lost in a book? After I am broken, I don’t know if it means I’m a butterfly, or a snowflake. There’s a lot of strength coming from the knowledge that you didn’t die, and fear emanating from the fact that all in all, you got hurt.
So I don’t know. I don’t know if crying helps. I don’t know what all these things happen for. And honestly I’m not a bit curious to find out. ’cause I’m afraid to find out that it was not worth all the sleepless nights, puffy eyes and those days, those very long days when even the mere light of the sun is bound to set you off like a hunter’s arrow, when it was so hot that you wanted to take all your clothes off and walk free, but also felt like those fuzzy socks sweatpants and a hoodie were doing you a good one in keeping yourself away from the open when you were in the open.
I know how it feels when it evolves from a crush, to the thing that practically crushes you down into your spirit. I know how it feels when it moves from feeling so secure in your own person, to not knowing who the hell you are. I know how it feels to want to leave but you are not nearly as strong as to tell them something as little as they upset you with their words or actions.

So every time I feel like I don’t know how, I need to remind myself that I do know. And not only that, that I actually can. I can survive alone. I can get up and leave. I actually can. It will be a fine session, maybe a month or two, of layers and layers of old and fresh tears. Old and fresh memories. Going and coming back. But when I spring forth at the right angle and speed, I won’t spring back. I shall be able to take my leave. Maybe, just maybe, the snowflake is better off as water, or water vapour. Same old original mesh and DNA, only more stable and not threatened by change.
Focus on your breathing. Count those sighs. Look in the mirror. Honestly and earnestly see through the person. I am human. I can feel it. I am human.