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.
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Solace.
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.
What am I more terrified off? Loving you or being loved by you? When I know you’d never love me right. Or the fact that I know maybe I already do.
The words that never reached my mouth or the tip of my thumbs.
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Sitting in a corner in this wearily rain, watching the world go by. While the roads have made it impossible to walk on with plashy puddles and propulsive driving. Here I am, with a book I’ve been too frail to finish, although tempting; my mind just has been elsewhere.
A few kilometers and a sea away from home. A part of me wishing this rain to never lull, allowing me to sit here and wonder more.
Friends waiting for me anxiously, while family has no clue. At this point friends are my Ohana. I know I wanted to be home, I had something to look forward to. I still do. But now that I’m here, so close and so far, it doesn’t quite feel the same. And I’m unable to figure what had changed.
How blind is love. How blind are we.
May 08, 2016
Ever wondered why you’ve never come across an article which said “Uncle seduced by Teen.” hm?I don’t know, I’m not one to say this would never happen. But even if it did the guardian should be able to stop whatever sickness was going on? Or are men too weak they lose their conscience after a sight of tit’s in a see through shirt or even not.
See, I’ve been blamed and accused of seducing an uncle. An uncle that I’m never even aware of having. There are rumors, and there are confessions. And then assumptions. Then there a dots connected by people who don’t have a single clue about you. Now, I’m a talker, I go on and on about my life or I used to. I think I was looking for comfort or was desperate to be understood. And it took me a million wrong confessions to a few people to finally understand, no one really cares, you know? Absolutely no one gives a fuck.
It was my weakness that I looked for love in all the wrong places from all the wrong people. I thought at least someone would see me beyond the mess I’ve become. I thought if I gave them a chance they’d put an effort for me too. I’ve never been more wrong. They just don’t care. Or they fail to understand how one person can carry this much baggage.
So these accusations and these blames and these threats, that’s how its going to be. What am I ashamed of? My life? no. I’m not. Because I had no control over the events that followed in my early years. Those weren’t all my decisions, my parents decided for me and now that everything has gone to shit they avoid talking about it and blame me instead. Like everyone else.
I’m more ashamed of my wrong judgement in people I confided in. I’m more ashamed of the person I loved and trusted with my soul and my darkest deepest confessions hoping a corner of him would understand. I’m more ashamed I thought I was loved by someone and let him have my pictures and what not, only to see them going around now. That’s okay. I made a mistake. Like we all do at some point. A couple of mistakes actually. See the lesson here is, you think you know someone, but you don’t. You think you know what they are capable of, but you don’t. Like you see exactly what he would do, and all the signs are telling you its him, it’s him. But you wouldn’t believe. Because you didn’t love a monster, you thought. You thought he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, despite all the pain and the abuse.
How blind is love. How blind are we.
I’m sorry Mamma.
May 06, 2016
Mamma, I miss you.
I know we were never close to begin with. But that doesn’t mean I love you any less. I do, I love you with all my heart but it honestly kills me everyday to see how disappointed you are in me. I tried Mamma, I really tried. I wish you knew how cruel this world is. Nor is it the same as the one you grew up in. I’ve struggled Mamma, I’ve struggled a lot. I know you have too. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t turn out any better. It would be easier to die than live the life that I’m living, but I can’t kill myself knowing how it might affect you and Kokko. You both are literally everything and I can’t even show my face to either of you. I’ve let you down so bad. I thought it would get better. I thought life would get better. I thought I would heal.
So many things I can’t even forgive you for Mamma. But then you’d always say it’s my fault. I remember the million times I ran away from home. I remember the million times I cam home late and you asked me to find another place to live. And times when you’d ask me every day to find my own place and go. Where could I go Mamma? Who would take in someone her own Mother didn’t want to take? These echoes still live with me. Everyday.
You’ve asked me to leave so many times then how can you blame me for being eager to run off? I left Mamma, I thought it would be best if I left. But no. It ruined me. He hurt me Mamma. He hurt me so much. He would kick me out of the house too. And I had nowhere to go in that foreign land. Mamma I died everyday. I didn’t see coming back home was a choice. Where did I belong? Where did I fit in? Who was looking out for me?
Mamma, my friends, they don’t have these problems. Their lives are so different. Then why me?
Don’t tell me you only hated me when I grew up. I remember being seven and crying when you said I was such a show off around Bappa. I always felt that he loved me more Mamma, he did. I know he did. you hated me. I’m sorry Mamma but I don’t know how to change that. I don’t know how to undo my life. I don’t know how to undo all those horrible things I’ve done because all I wanted was to survive. To live. I can’t go on like this Mamma. I need a home. Even if it’s my grave I lay in, I need a home. I can’t go on anymore. I’m sorry Mamma. I tried.
I know we were never close to begin with. But that doesn’t mean I love you any less. I do, I love you with all my heart but it honestly kills me everyday to see how disappointed you are in me. I tried Mamma, I really tried. I wish you knew how cruel this world is. Nor is it the same as the one you grew up in. I’ve struggled Mamma, I’ve struggled a lot. I know you have too. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t turn out any better. It would be easier to die than live the life that I’m living, but I can’t kill myself knowing how it might affect you and Kokko. You both are literally everything and I can’t even show my face to either of you. I’ve let you down so bad. I thought it would get better. I thought life would get better. I thought I would heal.
So many things I can’t even forgive you for Mamma. But then you’d always say it’s my fault. I remember the million times I ran away from home. I remember the million times I cam home late and you asked me to find another place to live. And times when you’d ask me every day to find my own place and go. Where could I go Mamma? Who would take in someone her own Mother didn’t want to take? These echoes still live with me. Everyday.
You’ve asked me to leave so many times then how can you blame me for being eager to run off? I left Mamma, I thought it would be best if I left. But no. It ruined me. He hurt me Mamma. He hurt me so much. He would kick me out of the house too. And I had nowhere to go in that foreign land. Mamma I died everyday. I didn’t see coming back home was a choice. Where did I belong? Where did I fit in? Who was looking out for me?
Mamma, my friends, they don’t have these problems. Their lives are so different. Then why me?
Don’t tell me you only hated me when I grew up. I remember being seven and crying when you said I was such a show off around Bappa. I always felt that he loved me more Mamma, he did. I know he did. you hated me. I’m sorry Mamma but I don’t know how to change that. I don’t know how to undo my life. I don’t know how to undo all those horrible things I’ve done because all I wanted was to survive. To live. I can’t go on like this Mamma. I need a home. Even if it’s my grave I lay in, I need a home. I can’t go on anymore. I’m sorry Mamma. I tried.
He’s a Pig.
We ended up talking through the night. See I love talking to you, you make me laugh without even trying. Days that I never wanted to smile and I’d to hear from you and those days were better than my Birthday’s.
I was fine, I had zoned you. promised myself you’d never be anything more than a friend. But then you, typical you. Barged in an altered the entire thing leaving my emotions all over the place. Why, why did you have to tell me what you did. When half of them had carried no meaning whatsoever.
You’re just damn good with your smart mouth with words that leave me aching for more.
I can’t. I just can’t and don’t ask me to reason because I don’t know how to. I just know I can’t let you in again, the way I did before.
I did once, thought about nothing but you and where’d that leave me. I was hurt. I can’t hurt again.
And look what you’ve done? I’d texted you two days back, on the dumbest matter of all and yet I can’t even get a seen notification from you. If this was me any other day I would block you without thinking twice, but it is me, today. And I can’t. I can’t do this again. I’m much weaker than I’d thought. You’ve become my kryptonite. And I hate it, I hate it so much. You don’t deserve to have so much control over me. But at this point what more can I do. I am in the most pathetic phase of a thing that I don’t even know how to define.
Maybe I really am losing my mind, finally.
How did you become one of these? how did you become one of the guys I write off in agony. How’d you become this? You were so much kinder, or so I thought.
You were supposed to be good. You were supposed to be a friend. I wrote off any feelings I had for you so very quickly when I realized you weren’t always going to be there. Then how, then why? I know you know exactly how I feel. I know you know I don’t like what I’m feeling, not one bit. Then why. Why wouldn’t you stay gone. Like forever. Just go please, and never come back I beg you. I can’t play this game. This can’t be this twisted.
I’d like to dispose you, but sadly, you aren’t very disposable.
I’m done. I’m blocking you. I’d already blocked you from everything. That is until you moved here and got a new number. And you just had to ring me up didn’t you. You fucking Pig. You must’ve thought oh she might be over what I did let’s give her something new to wallow in and just take it away. No warning. I hate your existence.
Fuck you. But I’m sorry you don’t know how insane I am, or how much I like you. Or you do. Which makes you an asshole. So really, Fuck you.
P.S. There’s no such as sexily fucked up. Just fucked up. Fuck all those bull where you acted all jealous. Fuck it. Fuck you. Just fuck you.
Wake
April 28, 2016
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“She finds it hard to trust someone.”
That’s the first line of a song I’ve been listening to daily for the past two weeks. Just realized why I’ve been doing that though. Of course I find it hard to trust someone, or anyone. But the song gets better as it goes on. “Unbreakable by Jamie Scott” the name says it all and I can only hope it relates as much as I think it does.
“She’s the girl in the corner,
She’s the girl nobody loved.”
What doesn’t make sense is what’s my writing mojo up and doing 3 am on a cold April night. I should be well cuddled under my love blanket, it’s all red and fluffy and hugs me like I haven’t been hugged in a while.
I was watching Sex & the City, almost done with the last season where all the good things happen. Mr. Big pleading after Carrie trying to express his love on an empty street while she shoo’s him away and elopes to Paris with the artist who ended up buying her Diamonds and shit, because she was so damn sick of New York and needed amazing things to happen. She needed life to happen, she needed to move on. She made the right choice. Paris with the artist. But in the middle of the crowd with the Diamonds around her neckline, in that foreign land when it got most noisy she realized that this hasn’t made her any happier. She missed home.
Coming to, I need to move on. (Yes everything has to be about me. Jk.) How long am I going to be hung up on worlds most toxic relationship ever with a pinch of insanity, destruction and narcissism on the side. At this point everybody but me can clearly see how wrong my choices were. Whether it be to be with someone or not. I know I’m way too much in love with the memories and have been cherishing the past like the best of the years has been done. But with my illness, there was always more than what met the eye. I’ve always known this but I hated to believe he could be what he is. It’s been 8 months and 12 days since I’ve overcome my illness, as I’d like to refer to it from now on. Though the wake prolonged.
I felt like texting someone. Not jut someone, well he’s special. In a way. Since he’s been around far longer than I expected and he’s been a good friend even though a little bit of a Pig. He’s been somewhat good to me. And since I no longer do the texting thing anymore or even barely replying to any texts these days. I needed to text him. But I wasn’t sure if I should. So I took out a piece of paper, took a pen and closed my eyes. Wrote on it to go for it or to not. Tore them apart, still eyes closed, folded them and threw them on the other side of my bed. And with eyes closed still, I picked one. Opened my eyes and I don’t know if it’s the most reliable source but it was the paper that said Go for it. And since I picked it up blindly I’d like to believe it was the universe and if it backfires I can always blame the universe. I know I know, I’m 23 and should be able to make better solid prompt decisions. But I can’t. My guts are fucked up. So what if he doesn’t reply? That’s okay. I mean my life has always been about taking chances and being disappointed half of the time. What’s the worst that could happen? No reply? fine. Can live with that. But yay he did reply. Wow I sound like a child. You’d think 23 would make someone a little mature but no. My instincts refuse to.
So yeah Mr. Big, I’m hoping he could be something like it. I mean he probably won’t but I’ve gotta start hoping again. Start thinking that the world isn’t full of monsters and stop being so cynical. And stop being so afraid because whenever I think it’ll break me, it definitely does. Maybe this will only leave a crack and I can glue it back and decorate the crack and still look fab. Because I’ve gotta.
Your problems are as big as you make them.
April 22, 2016
A friend I met today told me “Your problems are as big as you make them.” Five hours later, that statement made a lot more sense.
See, life is hell again. It feels like somehow I’m seventeen all over once more. But the best part about being seventeen was that I had my whole life ahead of me, or so I believed. I knew I had time to evolve and become the bigger and better person I could be. Today it’s worse because my whole life isn’t ahead of me. What I thought lay ahead when I was seventeen, I’m living now. This is what lay ahead.
I can’t help but think I chose to live life all wrong. After everything so horrible my faith is still intact even if I may fail to live unto what I believe.
Then again there’s the other side to it. If I hadn’t done all that I had done I wouldn’t be this person I am. I did what I did to survive. People find their pleasure in all the odd ways of life and what I may have chosen may be too strange.
I may have a long dating history and bared myself to one two many people and gave my all to the worst there could exist. And after years of looking and seeking what I’d been missing my whole life here I am, still empty. More emptier than I’d ever been.
But that’s life you know? How can you ever face something you couldn’t win against? Why attach yourself to all those temporary things. Like even your hair, don’t get attached to your hair because eventually your hairline will recede and your face won’t glow the same. Just like that, don’t get attached to the people you come across or the phone you have or the money you earn. Because at the end of the day, the people you have or the phone you use and your account balance are completely irrelevant.
She Was Sea 