I just need someone to tell me that it’s going to be okay, and mean it. I need someone to reassure me and tell me this isn’t all it’ll ever be and this isn’t all that I’ll ever be. But I’m all alone, with no one who even remotely understands how difficult this is for me. Words don’t do justice to the remoteness I’m feeling. I guess I miss security. I miss being safe. When the music stops, you’re all you have. And that’s so terrifying, and it’s exhausting carrying yourself on your back when you feel so out of your own body. Moving through the winds trying to find my place to call home. I know I’ve done this on my own for so long, but right now it feels too much. I’m tired of taking care of myself. Right now I feel like a commitment I can’t seem to get rid of.

But that being said, I’m still not giving up. Maybe I’m not even close to. Because even when it feels impossible, I get out of bed and do what I have to do, even though none of it is for me. I used to think by now the devil would have no more cards to play, but oh it does. The hand is dealt and I’m going to have to bluff my way through this round, hoping this is the last time I will have to move mountains. Life is a series of falling, getting back up, and then falling even lower. And here is where it feels like I just can’t do this anymore. But I remind myself that I have to. I keep hurting myself with the expectations I have set for myself, and when things fall apart it feels like the lowest point of life all over again. If I could graph it out I’d say the older you are the harder you fall with life’s inconveniences. The bouncing back process is a hundred times harder than it used to be. As we live in this economy, trying to make ends meet, you realise how eerie the whole tunnel is. I’m going to stop torturing myself with the expectations, convince myself that it’s okay to win a little late if it means your survival is at stake. I just hope I’m a slingshot that’s pulling back right now. And it’s not always going to be this way.

“I’m doing okay, I miss you too. I just realized that if we get used to doing what we do, me being with other people and you being happy in your life, what’s the point of us? We are past being a fling and you’re never going to get out of your marriage or make any proper space in your life for me, so what’s the point at all. I have nothing against you, I just don’t want to keep going over this for the hundredth time. I need someone who’s going to be available to me, who’ll actually be there for me and add value to my life. And what you can offer me is just not enough at this point. I hope I’m not overreacting. I’m back and mom’s shit and everything keeps falling apart and nothing is working out and I’m miserable in so many ways and I just want to be happy but I don’t want to keep finding happiness in temporary highs and temporary arms.”

I don’t know how I get caught up in these romances. An innocent dance, an innocent date, sometimes even an innocent hello. When you know yourself well enough you know from the beginning till end what will and what won’t work for you. Yet somehow you slip between your words and lines and find yourself weeping in the arms of a man who will one-day become a stranger. Another relationship with an expiry date. Or maybe I’m getting ahead of myself by getting caught up in all the possibilities that may never happen. But then I also know well enough the chances of hoping this to work against reality is deluding. So here I am, once again, in the arms of a temporary man, hoping for a permanent love. Foolish is the word.

Let’s talk about it. Revenge Porn.

The pictures that have become the talk at coffee tables and gatherings, where misogynistic men show off the saved screenshots as trophies to what I don’t even know. Look, look at this woman without her clothes, and look how I have saved them in my phone, and now look at how I’m showing them to you, oh look at how great I am and how easy she is.

I just don’t see the purpose of it. Why are you adding to the problem? What do you gain? I’ve sat at tables with the very same men thinking they were good people. How could I’ve not known? How could I be so naive even after everything I’ve been through. Why do I still hope and wish that there’s good left in this world even when it continuously proves me wrong? I don’t know why I do that.

And then there are the men, who look at these pictures and come and tell me, don’t worry about it, you looked hot. And I say “Haha.” Yes, “Haha” as in haha look at the clown I am and look at me not being able to call you out on your shit.

A few weeks back I was sexually assaulted twice. One I slapped back for and the other was in my sleep which I had to yell out so they’d stop touching me. But after these two accounts within the same day, when I demanded people not invade my private space and to stand a bit further away even while standing, I was told I just thought everyone wanted to get into my pants. A woman can’t even demand decency without a man belittling her.

There’s no advice I can give to anyone who’s going through the same because it will feel like absolute shit and worse in my case, I tried to justify it saying I deserved it.

Truth is, no one deserves such. It’s just among us are animals who feel so powerless that to assert authority over people they do shitty things. Shitty things that inflate their ego. And their shitty friends who applaud them for it. And that’s their motivating factor, to become a stud among the gang by stripping off someone’s innocence forever.

These men forget they were birthed by mothers, are married to women, who then give birth to their daughters, who will one day more or less likely become victims of a mindset they set in motion.

Putting your guards back up after just letting someone freeway with you is nearly impossible. Now that they’ve gotten under your skin, it is too late. How could I think I would be fine.

I don’t know where to even begin drawing the line. From forehead kisses to endless nights. How do you not get caught up? When I’m not in control it comes out in the nastiest of ways. Bulging insecurities and dreaded conversations of all the what-ifs that may or may never happen. How do I stop? How do I protect myself without any armour?

Guarding up is almost bitching up at this point. Act like nothing gets to you even when it does. I hate it here.

Guess who came around, the boy who broke my heart. The boy who couldn’t contain the thing we called ‘love’.

Flowers in his hand, love in his eyes, regret in his breath. Holding himself back, wishing to turn back time.

I believed we were perfect, oh, we were. He was my best friend, my go-to. My lifeline. I begged him to be my last.

He left, not because there was no love, but because there was. Sometimes we get so scared of what we feel we know no way else but to sabotage it.

I wish I’d stayed where he left me, I wish I knew he just might come around. But the way I went about it, I took my shot, and I got shot. I bled, I cried, I moved along with all the broken pieces.

I felt complete with him, like there was nothing I couldn’t conquer with him by my side. He made me believe in myself. He reassured me every chance he got. He showered me with compliments every day. I was spoilt. I still am. I don’t know if I will ever find someone who’ll live up to his loving ways, maybe I won’t.

But when he left, he also broke me. My lifeline was dead. I exploded, my emotions had nowhere to go, they birthed storms inside me I couldn’t contain. I ruined myself. I was so disappointed that I was so sick of this world. I was so mad at it for letting me down when everything felt so right. How could it not work out, when we were that good together. But it didn’t. That was the reality of it. The people who love you even the most dearly sometimes end up breaking your heart. And that’s exactly why it’s so scary, when the people who love you could do that, imagine what the people who didn’t feel nearly the same can do to you. Oh, it’s scary out there.

Guess who came around, the boy I wished to stay. Guess who changed her mind, the girl who’s beyond vulnerable that she can’t ever trust someone else to take care of her heart. Because she knows, they won’t. They never do.

I don’t know why I continue to seek relationships that are bad for me, ones that come with expiration dates and deadlines, ones that can never give me what I want, and these are always the ones that I get most caught up on. Sometimes it isn’t even about love, it’s just the need for intimacy, a close friendship, someone you can hold onto when everything else seems bleak, but then you know the same person you’re seeking support from now will be your downfall and you won’t have anyone but you to hold onto and you will fall, hard, into a vastness of sad. Is it worth it, this pattern of self-sabotage?

He asks me what I’m going to do, as he leaves. I tell him I’m going to jump out of this 7th-floor window, he thinks I’m joking of course. But deep down, that is all I want to do. Jump out of a window, feel the end of my life. That’s all.

He tells me to not do it here. And that’s what anyone has to ever say. Even though it brushed off as a joke, which it isn’t for me anymore – it’s never the right time to end your life, it always revolves around other peoples conveniences. Even your death is going to be an inconvenience, just like your life.

Do we remember our first thought, what we thought of? No, we don’t. But it probably would have been about the lights and the noises of this world. The madness of change, the chaos and company, all of which you did not ask for – but just happened since god willed. Our birth into this world serves many purposes. It gives meaning to life. But I had always wished against my birth. I hate that I’m here. I’ve hated it almost every day. I fail to see the beauty of life.

I was born into a world of hatred and anger. I got very little love. I was unloved. And to the little girl that I was, this was confusion. I couldn’t understand it. What was happening? What was wrong? I wondered about this almost every day. I went on from one unloving hand to the other. That didn’t change even as an adult.

My confusion is now hateful. I hate my pain, I hate the reason for my pain. I hate that I was subjected to it, I hate that I didn’t ask for any of this, yet I was given the worst of everything. I hate that I’m losing myself for the hundredth time.