in a relationship, it shouldn't be a label that holds you back from the things you want to do, and the people you want to see. in a relationship, you shouldn't feel held back from these things. if you do, then the relationship doesn't exist for you, its just the label. make sure you tell that to the other person, so that the other person isn't shocked by all the things you do now that the label has been ripped apart.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
blinking lights. thudding music. faces flash for a second, eyes shut, faces in concentration. everyone is moving to a single beat. hot, perspiring shoulders. she's leaning against the bar, already unsteady on her feet. so many people. so lonely still. what was wrong with her? time for another shot.
the whiskey burns down her throat. slowly the smile comes back. she goes up to a guy.
"so why aren't you dancing?" she asks him.
"i'll dance if you come with me" he smiles. she laughs, takes the stranger's hands, and guides him to the dance floor. she moves, forgetting that these are people she will see tomorrow. she closes her eyes, forgetting that this is not him.
when she opens her eyes again, the man's shirt is covered in sweat. and she sees him. the one she is supposed to be with. she sees him swinging another woman in his arms, and she's laughing. she doesn't need to close her eyes.
why is it that she feels scared to ask him for a dance?
damn. still not drunk enough. she leaves the stranger there, not sure if he notices. and heads back to the bar for another whiskey shot.
the whiskey burns down her throat. slowly the smile comes back. she goes up to a guy.
"so why aren't you dancing?" she asks him.
"i'll dance if you come with me" he smiles. she laughs, takes the stranger's hands, and guides him to the dance floor. she moves, forgetting that these are people she will see tomorrow. she closes her eyes, forgetting that this is not him.
when she opens her eyes again, the man's shirt is covered in sweat. and she sees him. the one she is supposed to be with. she sees him swinging another woman in his arms, and she's laughing. she doesn't need to close her eyes.
why is it that she feels scared to ask him for a dance?
damn. still not drunk enough. she leaves the stranger there, not sure if he notices. and heads back to the bar for another whiskey shot.
i didn't deserve this. didn't deserve the anger. didn't deserve the insecurities. didn't deserve to be replaced. didn't deserve to be second place to someone. didn't deserve to be spoken to like that. didn't deserve to be forgotten at the drop of a hat. didn't deserve to be treated like an non existing entity. didn't deserve to be played around with. didn't deserve my feelings to be classed as unimportant.
things finally changed. the love evaporated. strings cut.
someone once told me i would regret being in a long distance relationship because i would regret taking all that effort to meet the person, once it was over. they were wrong. i regret this five minutes away relationship a lot more.
breathe, erase, reset.
happy independence day
things finally changed. the love evaporated. strings cut.
someone once told me i would regret being in a long distance relationship because i would regret taking all that effort to meet the person, once it was over. they were wrong. i regret this five minutes away relationship a lot more.
breathe, erase, reset.
happy independence day
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
hole
dusk was settling in through the half open windows when she finally opened her eyes and grudgingly kicked the duvet to the floor. night time already?
what a waste of life. but it was better than being awake. those long empty hours. maybe she'd stay in bed for just a bit longer just staring at the ceiling. cold and lonesome. a hard change to make, having that bed to herself. without a warm body to sleep next to. she reached out to the bedside table, found a half a cigarette, and searched with her fingers for a matchbox. with all her energy, she rose, put the cigarette to her mouth and tried, and tried to light the matchstick unsuccessfully. oh that's right, the empty glass lying on the floor reminded her, she'd spilled water all over her table in drunken haze last night.
who was he, the man from last night? just a blur in her memory, he hadn't even left a piece of evidence except for her unreliable recollections from last night. the last thing she remembered, was laughing, throwing her heels to him while they stumbled home from the bar together. what was his name again? couldn't remember. did they do it? she stood up from her bed, catching the wall as the head rush blinded her.
as her vision returned, she assessed the room around her. the day was breathing its last and orangeish light was streaming in the way she liked it. the creaky wooden floors were cluttered with clothes and piles of books and papers. she stumbled to the gas stove across the room with her cigarette, looking for the lighter. her phone blinked next to the stove. she unlocked it, already dreading her choice. battery low. no messages. one missed call from her mom. anger boiled up and she threw her phone against the wall in rage screaming in frustration. the phone broke into three pieces as it fell to the floor.
anger kept rising. she looked frantically for the lighter and found it under a mug. sweet relief of nicotine. she took a drag, and went to the window. ever since she was a little girl, she loved to sit at the window and watch the world go by. and now, she watched the day pass and awaited the cover of night. in the quietude of the world, she found comfort. in a dark corner of the bar, she found peace. nothing satiated her like liquor. not reading a book, which she would restlessly throw to the floor in a few minutes. not cleaning her room, which would bring back memories that she kept suppressed. no. sleep and liquor. those were her friends. they dulled the pain like nothing else.
and the men. she smiled when she looked out. they would come expectantly to her place, and if they were lucky, she would be able to withhold the puke and they would haphazardly fumble under the sheets. if she was lucky, he would stay till morning. and then he would disappear.
they all leave in the end.
what a waste of life. but it was better than being awake. those long empty hours. maybe she'd stay in bed for just a bit longer just staring at the ceiling. cold and lonesome. a hard change to make, having that bed to herself. without a warm body to sleep next to. she reached out to the bedside table, found a half a cigarette, and searched with her fingers for a matchbox. with all her energy, she rose, put the cigarette to her mouth and tried, and tried to light the matchstick unsuccessfully. oh that's right, the empty glass lying on the floor reminded her, she'd spilled water all over her table in drunken haze last night.
who was he, the man from last night? just a blur in her memory, he hadn't even left a piece of evidence except for her unreliable recollections from last night. the last thing she remembered, was laughing, throwing her heels to him while they stumbled home from the bar together. what was his name again? couldn't remember. did they do it? she stood up from her bed, catching the wall as the head rush blinded her.
as her vision returned, she assessed the room around her. the day was breathing its last and orangeish light was streaming in the way she liked it. the creaky wooden floors were cluttered with clothes and piles of books and papers. she stumbled to the gas stove across the room with her cigarette, looking for the lighter. her phone blinked next to the stove. she unlocked it, already dreading her choice. battery low. no messages. one missed call from her mom. anger boiled up and she threw her phone against the wall in rage screaming in frustration. the phone broke into three pieces as it fell to the floor.
anger kept rising. she looked frantically for the lighter and found it under a mug. sweet relief of nicotine. she took a drag, and went to the window. ever since she was a little girl, she loved to sit at the window and watch the world go by. and now, she watched the day pass and awaited the cover of night. in the quietude of the world, she found comfort. in a dark corner of the bar, she found peace. nothing satiated her like liquor. not reading a book, which she would restlessly throw to the floor in a few minutes. not cleaning her room, which would bring back memories that she kept suppressed. no. sleep and liquor. those were her friends. they dulled the pain like nothing else.
and the men. she smiled when she looked out. they would come expectantly to her place, and if they were lucky, she would be able to withhold the puke and they would haphazardly fumble under the sheets. if she was lucky, he would stay till morning. and then he would disappear.
they all leave in the end.
Monday, August 13, 2012
just goes to show that the minute you let your guard down, the minute you decide to be happy, BAM life punches you in the gut, leaving you breathless and shaking.
fuck naruto. fuck his tshirt. fuck the notes. fuck the cd. fuck the letter. fuck these emotions. fuck mugsy and fuck moot.
this generation needs to get some fucking integrity and grow the fuck up.
fuck naruto. fuck his tshirt. fuck the notes. fuck the cd. fuck the letter. fuck these emotions. fuck mugsy and fuck moot.
this generation needs to get some fucking integrity and grow the fuck up.
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