15 September 2015
29 October 2013
Lie about the fact that you’re not okay, miss him beyond words, distract yourself with every pretty guy that reminds you of him, cry when you know no one is looking, give up on love. Run away as far you can, tell everyone it’s for the job, for the adventure, for the opportunity. You know it’s not. You know it’s because you can’t stand to be there anymore. Say goodbye to empty air, hope he thinks about you as much as you think about him. Try to hate him. Immerse yourself in a new country, pretend there’s hope for you yet. Don’t think about all the conversations you had, don’t think about that (short) amount of time you had together (that would never have amounted to anything), don’t think about the way he made you feel. Lie some more, tell everyone you’re happy, throw yourself into work, throw yourself at every pretty guy that reminds you of him, desperately try to replace him and fail, drown in the wine (and the beer and the sangria and whatever else you can find). Wonder at what you’re doing, wonder when you started feeling this way and why you feel this way and when you’ll stop. Wish things were different, fight the urge to jump on a plane just to go fall at his feet, know that he’s not worth it but let your heart take over your head anyway. Find reasons not to think about him. Miss everything about him. Miss the smiles, the ridiculous comments, the way it all felt right. Lie to yourself some more. Distract yourself some more. Write about him and hope he sees it. Fantasise about him changing his mind and telling you all the things you want to hear. Know it’ll never happen. Decide you’re going on a world tour. Feel empty inside. Wish every guy you touch was him. Try to forget. Try not to cry. Try not to give up on love altogether. Try and try and try and hope that one day you’ll wake up and he’ll be another distant memory – just like every other guy you’ve ever ‘loved’.
28 October 2013
'cept, only, it's not so sad or pathetic or little anymore
i still fall in love too easily with the wrong things at the wrong times, and i still write heartachingly broken things and sometimes i still cry and sometimes they still only tell me i'm beautiful when i'm naked
but mostly i smile a lot and laugh and i'm in love with the right one at the right time
but who knows maybe i'll still write pathetically heartbreaking things every once in a while
16 May 2013
Someone - no, not someone, that someone, him, the one I’ll never really understand and I’ll definitely never forget - he once asked me what love is. I couldn’t answer him then, mostly because I never really knew but I think I have a pretty good answer now. I can almost imagine how that conversation would go if it was to happen now. It wouldn’t be pleasant but then hearing the truth rarely is, is it?
“Love is like me. Love is fickle, impatient and demanding. Ungrateful and petulant. Love is vain. Conceited. Arrogant.Wholly joyous and utterly melancholic. Love is selfish. Far more than you could begin to imagine, and yet love gives more of itself than you could believe. Love is graceful, clumsy, beautiful but uglier than sin. Love makes everything worthwhile, and you waste yourself while giving it everything it asks for. Love gets its claws into you and doesn’t let go until you’re desperate and dying. Love enjoys teasing you, making promises it intends to, but will never, keep. Love makes you wait and watches while you wither with a smile on it’s face. Love loves making you feel guilty for the crimes it commits against you. Love is fleeting. It will make your dreams come true and then up and disappear when you think you’re in paradise. Love is a bitch, a vile, sadistic bitch. And you will fall hard, and all the while love will taunt and twist you into something you cannot recognise. That, my dear, is what love is.”
“Is that what you really think? Is that what you’ll do to me?”
“Haven’t I already?”
“I think so.”
“I did love you once, you know, differently. Before love became just another way to get I want.”
8 January 2013
I'm on my third glass of wine - Merlot, of course
& halfway through
Breakfast at Tiffany's
Mostly who I used to be
& who I am today
& who I might be tomorrow or Thursday
(The brown version of Holly Golightly)
I'll feel a little, tiny bit better about
Who I am on this rather depressing Sunday
Will put a smile back on my face
& heels may put a spring back in my step
& maybe someday I'll have my Fred/Paul too
30 December 2012
- Hop into bed with your ex.
- Decide it’s a ‘mistake’.
- Act like nothing ever happened.
- Lie to me.
- Promise me a future.
- For five whole months.
- Let your ex treat me like shit.
- Watch me fall apart.
- Don’t do anything about it.
- Confess when I confront you.
- Use a poor excuse or three.
- Pretend like it’s all just dandy.
- Parade your ex.
- Act like she’s far more important than me.
- Swear it’s ‘friendship’ that matters while swearing all you want is for me to be happy.
- Watch me fall apart some more.
- Watch us fall apart.
- Swear you love me some more.
- Say goodbye.
21 December 2012
Fill it with good things
Smiles and laughter and intertwining fingers
Hide it away in the one place no one will ever find it
Tell yourself it’s not for you, best to forget
You’re more of the happily-never-after type anyway
Never think about Prince Charming
Though you’re quite sure you might have met him
Once Upon a Time
Remember that fairy tale you wrote way back when
Live it, love it
Who’s just as slimy as the ones that came before
This is the part where the clock strikes midnight and you