Loneliness could be depicted as one of the most harrowing experiences. For me it’s how misunderstood I am to people I’ve held close to my heart. It used to be painful how they didn’t understand me like I wished they would, but happily, I’ve grown past that and no longer require their understanding. I’m okay on my own. Without the misconceptions and judgment. All the validation I need, I grant it for myself. It only gets insanely difficult when the few people I allow into the inner inhibitions of my soul and mind end up treating me like a mere afterthought. But that’s for me to overcome. We don’t all have the same heart, mind, or soul. They won’t always love you as you love them, not every time.

I’m out on a little dopamine chase – doing something exhilarating and exciting. It felt a little scary coming here alone, to sit with my thoughts. The only downside is that this feels so lonely. Nevertheless, this feels unnerving to a girl who used to drop everything just to be alone with her thoughts. Maybe because I don’t want to be alone anymore. But that doesn’t suffice having to sit with people who loot my mind. I crave company that allows me to breathe without ventilating. To be honest, I both despise and love being alone. I hate that anyone I want to call is a bad idea. I hate that I’ve run out of people to life with.

Notting Hill comes to mind when I see this park. Oh, what a movie. I love love love the film. The benches, the lush life, and the tranquillity of it all. At this hour of the night, it’s quite pleasant. This city rarely gives us something so peaceful.

I feel like the discounted version of Julia Roberts without Hugh Grant, alone in this bench without a shoulder to lean on, listening to distinct chatter and bustling traffic through my AirPods, afraid if I’m not wary of my surroundings, I might run into bad company. Because it’s beyond midnight, it’s obviously not safe. However, I hope I am. This was something I really needed. I’m here, unwillingly stranded, in a world that’s moving forward.

This takes me back to when I used to run away from home, after arguments with my mother. I’d slam the door and walk away, not knowing where I was going, until I calmed down, which typically happens by the time I reach anywhere I see the sea. The ocean itself inspires us, reminding us of how insignificant our worries are in comparison to the expanse of the universe. And it’s for this reason that it’s tempting to escape the little box that is called life, so you don’t feel bound to and defined by your suffering.

When I don’t return and it’s late, she would come and find me. I never go anywhere new, she knows where I would be. She’d be enraged every time, and I’d be grateful that she showed up. For the rebel in me, it’s always a tremendous win – running away to see if she cared enough to come and find me. Now that has transpired into pushing people away to see if they’d care enough to climb over the walls I’ve built, all in hopes of assessing their intent.

Now, as an adult, she’s not going to think I’ve run away, and I haven’t. But it would be nice to be picked up, instead of having to catch another lonely cab home. That simply means that we never grow up and that the wounded children within us still get the best of our adult lives on occasion.

I love feeling this feeling with you.

All I ever want is to be safe with someone, and you can’t even guarantee that. Because you don’t know. All I want is to hear you say ‘baby, you’re safe with me. No one’s going to hurt you anymore. I got you, and I’ll forever cherish you’ and that’s just too much to ask for – for a woman like me. Hopes that have been taxed and dreams that have been depreciated, trades of love that has been lost. All I ever do is strip down for men who won’t even give their two cents to me.

Loving someone like me, a tainted woman – requires courage. I don’t disagree with that. But don’t come close to me, if you can’t live up-to the man you pretend to be. Don’t awaken my love and compassion unless you want to be sincere. I’m OK on my own; I don’t need this; I don’t need you to play hide and seek, giving love and then taking it away. I can’t handle it. I don’t even want to. Love me or leave me, if you don’t.

They say I’m aiming for nothing but heartache.

But, little do they know, you’re my piece of heaven.
You’re the only language my heart knows.
It’s you, you and you.

I’m no expert despite having been in the field for way too long. But with this one, I find myself unable to identify how right or wrong we are for each other. What stands out about him is how I’m drawn to him. Even in chaos. A year ago I found myself unwilling to compromise or change – and I’d always told myself that was because I didn’t want any of them badly enough – or that my identity was more important to me than what someone could give me. However, a year later, I find myself changed. I want nothing more than something genuine, a love that will make everything worthwhile in the end.

He has more than my heart, he has my soul.

This battle keeps getting really tiring. After all of the work I’ve put in and continue to put in, I find myself falling for someone who can’t accept the life I’ve led. And as I write it, I feel as if I’ve committed plenty of unspeakable sins, which I may have, but I have always thought of myself as someone who did the best I could, with what was thrown my way. I don’t expect people to comprehend my history or understand why I’ve done half the things that I’ve done. To mildly put it, everything I’ve done was for survival – I’m alive because of my choices. And that is why I’m not going to keep apologizing for who I am; if I go down that road I’d hang. So I try to not go there, I have this life to live and that I have to do that with myself by my side, and if I start loathing my very own existence and the essence of who I am, I would never move forward.

Yes, I’ve had more than my fair share of adversity, yet I’ve always triumphed. Even though bruised and battered, I always got back up, and I refuse to give up because there’s no purpose in giving up. I may have lost control of my life, yet I continue to do the best I can with what’s left of me. If I admit to myself that I’m embarrassed and ashamed of myself for everything I’ve had to endure and go through, I’ll be further away from self-love. And it would become increasingly challenging to love and respect myself. It’s even worse when all the terrible things you think of yourself are being used as reasons by the person you love, to not be with you.

I often wouldn’t accept criticism for something I can’t reverse – the past. I’ve admitted that I’m not the easiest person to be with and that loving someone like me and not hating me for it takes a special kind of fortitude. And that’s not something I find often. And I resent the fact that I’m insulting myself right now for losing him, but that’s what happens when you lose battles you truly want to win.

No matter what, I will always love myself. And I must if I am to survive. And that’s what I do. Being kind and compassionate towards myself is the very least I can do, after everything.

I love you was a lie, so was I miss you, and I like you. Why’d you have to lie? Why were your lies so necessary when I didn’t even need them? I would’ve settled for a sweet nothing instead of this hole you’ve left me with.

You are a mistake my heart is going to take a while to recover from and not because it was that great but because of all the dreams you made me look forward to, the build-up was well strategized or poorly thought through – or you just didn’t fucking care. For your selfish needs, your pathetic ass chose to cast me away. You came into my life – and you chose to leave too. I could’ve really done without having known you because you’ve been such a fucking waste that’s given me nothing but more issues to heal from.

Give me back the smile you took from me, the one you thought was bloody gorgeous that you could never get enough off, the one you couldn’t stop raving about – the smile you stole and completely shattered. Remember how concerned you used to be about my well-being? Do you recall how you used to ask if I was happy? And that was the most important thing to you? Do you recall lying to my face like that was your greatest strength? Do you recall swindling my heart for nothing more than your ignorance in the end?

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you oh I fucking hate you.

But I don’t at all. You see, unlike you, none of it was a lie to me. My heart was literally in your hands when I begged you not to destroy it, and you fucking smashed it even when I begged you not to. What bothers me is how easy it was for you – cold and emotionless, the polar opposite of who you pretended to be at first. I’m not sure where your game began, but I’m sure I know where it ends. I was smitten by your Oscar-winning performance – a portrayal of a rather infatuated boy – and I’ll admit, the act was truly terrific. Because I immediately sank into the pit you dug just for me. How special. God, you were a fuckboy, weren’t you? You’ve wrecked my time and emotions, and you’ve taken everything you don’t need from me for no reason at all – and you’re not even a little bit sorry. Fucking narc.

Give me back my confidence. Give me back every inch of my body you took. Return my cycle to me, and return me to the person I was before I met you. Give it all, give all you took from me that wasn’t yours. Pieces of myself you never respected, valued or honoured. Give that to me, you filthy thief. Your arrogance was both embarrassing and degrading. I absolutely despise you. I fucking hate you.

It’s 4 a.m., and I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I’m definitely cursing the day I met you. And I’ll keep doing so until I’ve forgotten everything about you. Yeah, I think I’m a little annoyed with you because you left. But I’m angrier with you for loving first, which you shouldn’t have done. Because I didn’t need your goddamn love, but you made me believe you did, and I was happy, and just when I’d convinced myself you were real, you ran away like the bloody coward you were.

I wish I wasn’t so angry with you. However, I am. I’ll be here for a while. And you’ve earned every breath of it.

You fed on my vulnerability like a goddamn parasite.

It’s just a lesson, right? A reminder that humanity doesn’t really exist when they see you as nothing but an object to use and throw away.

I mean, I don’t even blame him. I blame myself for not loving and respecting myself enough. I wasn’t taught to manipulate people into deeper connections. I know I’ve been through a load of shit and have never really been able to love myself the way I should, I try, but it just hasn’t happened as much as it should. And it’s bloody unfair that people just feel free to parade over my life just because I gave them a chance, a chance they asked for, was desperate for. Like I’m this shiny thing everyone wants a piece of – but I’m better admired from a distance. Because up close everything gets pretty real. And real usually scares people away.

And now I’m here struggling to heal, while he’s doing bloody fine. I write to cope, I let this shit out here so I can go to bed at night with a lighter heart. Losing someone you shared your world with even for a bit just stinks, especially when I was caught completely blindsided. I did not see it coming. I try to look for reasons, a sort of justification so that I can understand it myself, instead, all I have is nothing but confusion.