I am tired of making excuses. Tired of telling myself I am the bad guy here. Tired of feeling too guilty and too truthful. Tired of not knowing the right amount of surrender.

It’s not possible for someone to have no flaws. But every time, every fucking time I am the one who realizes I’ve been overreacting and it isn’t a big deal and consider myself so tiny to bow before him as if he was my entire universe.

Tell me something, WHO THE FUCK would snatch away his phone away from you, and would go the extent of physically hurting you in the process if the phone did not contain anything worth hiding. No just who. Who would. This is more than my brain can argue for, or make excuses for. Everytime I’m fucking there, I hurt. And then later when the story is being told my god, he hasn’t done anything wrong and I had been hurting for apparently nothing. I’m tired of being manipulated like this. I am tired of ego struck maniacs. I just want a humble soul.

I had once fallen terribly and helplessly for a man I was barely even attracted to. While now I struggle to love at all.
Anyone I’ve lied to or betrayed or left, should be thankful. Because I know the shit I put my man through. I can’t even begin to understand how he puts up with this psycho mood swinging self of mine. I sometimes pray he finds the strength to leave me for what he truly deserves. Because I can’t leave him since my life would no longer make sense without him. But if he left first it wouldn’t give me much of a choice than to get used to altered facts.

You don’t try to change your course when you meet someone. You just don’t. I mean, would you ever meet someone worth killing yourself for? We often misunderstand the length between becoming a better person and burying the person we used to be. Don’t you dare change because what you are right now is original, if you change now in a few years you’ll find yourself looking for answers to, what the fuck happened to me. Or where are all my friends.
You drove them away bitch. Acted like you were too good for them. That’s the fuck that happened.
So please, stay the way you are and love the people around you. The present is important and by closing up and driving people away you’re actually hurting people who love you. A lot.

June 06, 2017.

Twenty years ago, today was so wonderful as my baby brother was born.
Twenty years later, today is just as wonderful as it was in ’97. As he’s grown to be such a wonderful man.
Here’s to my no. 1 man.

My brother turns 20 today, and I can’t sleep. It’s got me thinking about the life we’ve left behind. The best memories of our childhood coming back fresh. We were best friends. I hated him so much I’d bite the shit out of him, but oh god. I loved this little shit more than I loved myself. Our childhood was shitty but we were too young to realize the shitty aspects. What we experienced or from where we stood, life couldn’t be happier. Until one day someone shat on all those. But until then, the memories we were given were times I wouldn’t trade for anything.
Last year when it came around to his birthday, I was in the worst place. I was too ashamed to even be his sister. I felt like after everything I’d done or happened to me he’d be too ashamed of me. Maybe he was but we never spoke of it.
All I know is when the worst of worst happened it didn’t bother me much until I realized, no. I’d never want my brother to see this. Like no. He shouldn’t have to put up with this. More than my parents I worried of his judgment. How he’d feel about me, cuz this boy mattered more than my life. And if I’m alive today that too is because every time I thought of doing something stupid I’d think of him and decide no, he doesn’t deserve this. He shouldn’t have to go through with this, I can’t do this to him. His existence has saved my life more than he’d ever know. We grew apart over the years and I always regret letting that happen. But today, he turns 20 and I couldn’t be more proud. He’s still my baby brother and I’d die to hold his little self in my arms for the first time once more, as that was the happiest day of my life.

Happy Birthday!

Can’t believe you aren’t a teenager anymore, you will forever be my only little brother, and I yours only Dhontha.
I hope this year paves your path into betterment as you step into adulthood. Wish you nothing but absolute happiness and success in life! So proud of the man you’ve grown to be and continue to be. ❤️

Loving a memory is so much easier. As it takes you back to your innocence and whole heart before it was smashed.

Men are strange. They promise to love you at your worst, yet forget you at your best. Also, these strange idiots somehow manage to wreck you through your adolescence.
Some had their love chocking on me, while their tendencies slaughtered my soul, my desire to live and hope for love.

Destroyed, I found myself repeating the same promises wishing I hadn’t changed. Now he’s made me his life line, just like I once made someone else mine. Do I vow to not be like the monsters I knew? Or have I already caught on.

Some romances take forever to phaseout. As they see into your world wildly and closely, compelling secrets you yourself struggled with words, for being suppressed too long. Silly boy. He didn’t realize you were praying silently with every word uttered, for him to stay. As you couldn’t bear the thought of him walking away knowing your wretched tales, yet you couldn’t stop. Foolish child believed this man would love her endlessly like he promised. She was wrong about him. He didn’t love her endlessly, more likely he never loved her at all. It’s an era of nothing till you pick your ringing phone to hear him on the other end. His voice unrecognizable yet the name as familiar as your own. This drags you seven long years back. Seventeen, when you had your entire life to live. Instead drowned in piles of sorrow and heartbreak when the world decided to show you how humans were. Foolish little child thought he was her life line. When in fact he was nothing, he did not exist. He was her train of thought, the name she wrote on every table of her school. Every song she listened to and every poem she read. But he didn’t exist, not in her world at least.

You found me lost and made me yours. Shed your light through the cracks of my heart. Built me a home in your arms and made me yours.

You’re my home and I don’t know what I’m without you. Take you out of my life and I don’t know who I am. That’s frustrating because every time you make me want to fucking leave I don’t know where the fuck to go or which way to go. Where the fuck do I go away from you when you’re all I know. When you protected me from myself how do I trust myself anymore.

This time it’s different. I feel more numb than hurt. More angry even. It’s like the half second laughing gas effect. Everything goes really quiet in your head and you hear your own heartbeat. Just when that gets too lousy you’re chased back to reality.

How could I not be angry. I lived up to the person I thought I could never be. Only to find out what I’d have rather not known.

Anger lingering in blood spilled wounds. Each one, a reminder of a time the world made it impossible to fight. Each bruise a reminder of a time darkness felt eternal.

For some, brave are the people who set themselves free knowing the world will never be the same again. For others brave are the ones who accept life as it is without pining for what’s not there. Realists show the most courage as they take on the world by what is is, than for what it could be.