We are all told to say no. No to the things we don’t want, and no to the people we don’t want. Basically NO is the code word that is SUPPOSED TO prevent you from being a part of anything you don’t want to be a part of. People make it sound like saying No will make it clear enough. Let me tell you something. It won’t. Not unless the monsters we know learn to listen to us and respect our boundaries.

I have said NO a couple of times. And I was ignored every time. I am a pushover by nature. Although the first time I said the word NO out loud to a person who was trying to get his hands on me was only recently. The other times I remember pushing them and running away only to find them coming after me and trapping me with nowhere to go. The pushing and running away was my no, was I not clear enough? was I not loud enough? Would he have stopped if I had screamed?

A question I’ve heard being asked too often to girls who’ve been in these situations is, ‘why didn’t you scream? did you like it? is that why you didn’t scream?’

Honestly, even I don’t have the answer. But what I know is, there are more important questions to be asked than why the fucking hell didn’t you scream for help. For instance, are you okay? How are you? And what kinda sick person thinks they didn’t scream out loud for help because they secretly enjoyed it? I mean guys they know the feeling they get when they’ve been jailed or mobbed, right. I mean because people apparently understand those situations more than these. Yeah, they are helpless, in that moment her whole world crashes down, stumbling, in slow motion. And they never recover from that, and they will never be able to tell another person how they felt in that exact moment because, nobody, nobody will understand. Not even herself.

Anyways, my recent occurrence. He was someone I’ve liked for the longest time. He was decent, well-educated. Had a good job. And we’ve hung out a couple of times and I was sure he was one of the nice guys. So so sure. But damn was I wrong. I’ve come up with this new theory where you know, if you really wanna know what a person is like tell them NO when they most need a yes. And see if he’s understanding about it or a monster about it. See, I told him no. Told him I wasn’t feeling well. He was probably deaf ‘cuz he came on to me more vigorously than ever and almost suffocated me. I was so disgusted but hey this is someone I’ve approved. This is someone whom I thought was nice enough and could be trusted. So it’s my fault right?

He was a selfish, heartless and evil fucking monster behind all that politeness.

I have a tendency of longing for things and people that are longer a part of my life and that has become a habit by now, but for a once let me write about the ones I long for everyday and have never left my side. My five angels.

Being blessed with these wonderful souls for the past decade has made me a better person. They are the most influential people in my life even though they may disagree since I almost don’t ever listen to them, I mean I do. I seek advice and all but I always end up doing the exact opposite of what I’ve been advised. But they love me despite and that’s whats so great about them.

At the end of our school year we were supposed to work on a project together for Teachers Day, I don’t know why but the whole class didn’t work on it together. It was us and a few others. That’s how it all began. Late nights working on it & we had the most fun completing it. I guess we owe our friendship to Teachers Day since that’s what brought us all together.

We thought after Aminiya we’d part and find new friends and go separate ways. Well some did, but the five of us we stuck together. We were too fond of our school memories to let anyone go. Yes we grew up went through college started working and met tonnes of new people. But none of that beat what we had.

And then we met our Bubble. She’s a bliss. Her laughter is infectious. The most wonderful soul I’ve known. Don’t know what I’d or we would do without her. We were never classmates but she used to follow us around and was the cutest most badass thing!. She was cousins with one of us, and years into our friendship she became one of us too. Not just one of us. She became the pillar of us.

People think a group of friends only last if they are the same kind of people. But we aren’t. We are nothing, absolutely nothing like each other. We don’t always enjoy the same things but we’ll just laugh at whoever is sulking and compromise. Though we are the perfect balance, we’ve got a mother hen who’ll shush us if we are too loud or walk out of a crash car and pretend she doesn’t know us because she’s too embarrassed, and then we’ve got beauty and brains who’ll always help with splitting finances, and we’ve got a blonde who’ll laugh at the most inappropriate things but also make the most valid points, and then we’ve got the gold fish with the most creative ideas. And then there’s our bubble of love. They are all gems.

What I’m trying to say is, well if I didn’t meet them there’s like 100 % chance I’d have ended up a whole lot different. Probably dead. They made such a huge impact in my life.

He’s never going to know of my tears, he’s never going to know of my fears. He wont understand why I had been living the picture he drew over and over again. He wouldn’t know why he’s become something I’d begun to feel so passionately about.

You know what I fear? I fear the day that my life would stop revolving around you. Bowing down to your accusations building my sorrow land on your pitiful words that stab me everyday continuously until I am forced to think yes, I don’t deserve happiness and I’ll never be. I have never known happiness without you. 

Writing about you has become a way of living. You, you are all that exists. Even in denial and delusion, you make sense. 

I force myself to go on unbothered. What other choice do I have? Seeing pictures of myself making rounds; does that mean this is the end? I don’t understand, especially when most of them were  posted online by me, about a year ago, and the rest were sent to the man I loved. Those pictures were no big deal, and when I am as open as I’ve been I don’t savvy why I am being targeted. And these are piling up in sequel to the rumors in motion. Waves of betrayal and treachery weighing me down now, I don’t know how to feel. I mean would hating him make things easier? Maybe. I wouldn’t know though, I have never been able to hate him. I don’t hate him and I hate that I don’t hate him.

Where I work, things like these are the end. Making it impossible for me to live among people or look them in the eye. Most of them aren’t as open minded as I, or as expressive. And even though they don’t say anything to my face, I know what they keep saying when I’m not around. I know what they are thinking from the judgmental looks I get from their lust hungry eyes when I walk by. Finally an explanation for why I stare at my feet and try my best to avoid another living soul while I walk. Can no longer walk with my head up high. Too ashamed for that.

People talk, rumors spread faster than anything else. Especially when you’re the mysterious thing who barely says anything and is almost always seen alone staring into space. People are curious about you. So when they hear something about you, that’s all they can talk about.

Recently I was reached out by an old schoolmate, we were pretty close back in school. And she said somethings that surprised me.

“You have no idea how much respect I have for you. Amilla life varah fucked up hisaabakah elhyma ingunee. You were, still are very brave. Stood strong and tall against all that damaged you back then.”

“Mashah maa fahun realize vee aslu eyru Ana ulhun haalu. All those things people talked about you, did to you. You were brave. So brave.”

What is she talking about? I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. When were things not so fucked up. I don’t remember a time people didn’t talk about me. Don’t tell me it’s because of my life choices, because there were times life chose me instead. And these words, they don’t make me happy, I mean why must anyone go through the amount of fucked up to understand another troubled soul? Just why. Can’t we all just be human?.

The last thing she said was “I am sorry we had to go through all that.” Me too honey, me too.

Why do we deserve these things? Even when we think we deserve better we are all struggling under a pile of crap we never owened up to.

Honestly, don’t ask me. Don’t ask me why. Because I don’t have the answer. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I keep rummaging over the past and its materials and the too old texts when they no longer reflect the present. These were all from a time when we didn’t hate each others existence. But today, we do. At least one of us does. So much. But I don’t and I hate that. I am not going to pretend that I no longer love him just because he hates me so much.

Guess like I said, maybe it’s my thing. The thing that makes me happy, reliving the past, reliving the hurt, the pain, the memories. Because nothing has made more sense since then.  A love once so true, now so bitter.

If he ever saw this his reaction would be something along the lines, “Another one of her attention seeking stunts. Or drama queen, who loves drama at it again. Or she’s still weird and disturbed. Or damn falling in love with four guys a week has still got her nowhere. Whore. Prostitute. Gold-digger. Uncle fucker. Whore.”

“Time does not always heal all wounds. Time demands answers and new wounds reopen old ones.”

I got fed up of your not calling, I got fed up of your absence. I got fed up of not knowing what tomorrow held for us. I tried, I did. I know you did too. We’ve both fucked up along the way. How hard is it to admit, that you weren’t the best too? How hard is it to admit that things could’ve been different if we both played our parts. It takes two to build a relationship and wreck one too. It’s not all on me. It’s not. And you know this too.

A year back, exactly today. I betrayed him. Not once, not twice, not thrice. Thrice in a row and then one last time. Months in between the third and the fourth. None of this was because I loved him any less, although that maybe very hard to believe now. Trust me, I loved him. I fucked up.

The first time I was barely aware when it happened, should’ve pulled back but it felt a sluttier kinda nice. The first couple of times were for the thrill, for the adrenaline rush it gave me. Awfully, I barely felt any guilt. It was shameless. The last time though, was when he had stopped coming around. What we had, had become less and less functional. I didn’t see things going anywhere. But the last time, yes I had slightly fallen for someone else as well. He turned out gay though. So yep, learned a bit of a lesson there myself. See sometimes, when a guy doesn’t make any move on you, physically, for months and you think he’s just a great guy who respects you and isn’t with you for his burning desires? Nah, sometimes he’s just gay. Or bi and not bi enough for you.

I don’t understand why I’m still betwixt the past even after everything that has recurred. The blame, the lies, false accusations, rumors. All his doing. Maybe it’s my thing, reliving the same story because that’s the only thing that made sense.

But how crazy does that make me when I tell you that underneath all that I still believe exists the man I loved. Behind all that, behind all that hatred, behind everything so horrible I still believe is the man I once knew, the man I once loved, the man I still love.  I can’t rid myself of this feeling, it’s insane and my friends would give me one good kick to knock me out and my thoughts but this is how I feel. Am I crazy? To love someone who made my life a living hell? But then, his favorite song is ‘Walk With Me In Hell’. Makes sense that way, because I so totally would walk with him in hell. But then a million other girls are probably as willing too.

It’s déjà vu and this is all too familiar, this is how it has always been. I was only praying this time it could be different and when I walk away for it to be the last time that I do. Still and all I always find myself back here, begging to be let in, oblivious to how further away I had been and could have been. I manage to find my way back to chaos only to build a hut amidst of it. Because it’s home. The last where we left things off though, it was destructive. There was nothing more clear telling me it was time, time to move on and leave everything behind.  Time to seal the book and run away, run as far as I could. And never return. Because I didn’t want to see what I had done to him nor him to I.

I couldn’t run away, I couldn’t leave this behind. I’ve never been able to. Feels like I’m right back here at this door begging to be let in. Doesn’t make sense. What am I doing here, what did I leave behind? What more is it that I want? More humiliation?

After everything that has happened. I still feel like he is the one.

Wtf am I doing or thinking, I don’t know.

Pray for solace,
Pray for resolve,
Pray for a savior,
Pray for deliverance, some kind of purpose.
A glimpse of a light in this void of existence.