Wow. Just wow. To think you have the audacity to say shit like that to me is astounding. What? You thought I’d break and be worried sick? Was that the outcome you were expecting? 

How immature can you be to do something like that? How childish, how selfish and how fucking arrogant of you. 

I knew people like you existed, but the fact you think I’ll waste my time on you. Wow. Just fucking wow. 


Rosy pink 

It’s cold. It’s dreary. My favorite kind of day. One thing is missing, however.

On a day like today, the day that requires the warmth of somebody, I miss you.

I know. I don’t show it. But that is my tactic. My coping mechanism. I need to stay distant. I can’t have you breaking my heart.

The past few months have been hard for us. Although you didn’t notice it, it was extremely hard for me. I was losing myself in this whirlwind romance.

I thought that I would keep seeing things in my rosy pink tinted glasses. It made me see everything in such a positive, loving way. But that was because I realized I loved you.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I still love you. But we’ve fought so much, I’ve compromised a whole heap of things. I’ve tried to change the way I am to better suit you.

It’s just different now. Ive realized I can’t do that. I have to be me. And you have to love me for me. And I love you enough to be able to admit that you don’t love me for me.

Not right now, anyways. It may happen. It may not. I guess it’s all in the power of the universe. Or fate. Or destiny.

I don’t want to break up. That’s the last thing I want to do. I want to help you. I want to nurture you. But only from a distant, until you realize your own potential, your own worth and how much I truly love and care for you.

Until then, I’m going to put my rosy pink tinted glasses away. And put on my mature, realistic glasses.


Why do you insist on hurting me?
Why do you always pretend you have no idea why I’m angry?
Do you think it feels good to be ignored?
Do you think its fun to tell someone you love them, and then fuck with their emotions?
Is this all a game to you?

How much more direct, do I have to be?
When will you see things from my perspective?
Why are you playing dumb?
Or do I mean that little to you?
Is everything you’ve told me, a lie?

You have drained me.
I have nothing left to give.
You have hurt me so much in the past few weeks.
And I am confused.
What you say and what you do, don’t match.
I don’t think it ever did.

I’ve tried so hard to be patient with you.
I’ve always been there for you, when you were down.
But where are you, when I need you?
You always put me last.
I am always your last priority.
Do you understand how that makes me feel?

I don’t think you do.
I thought you and I connected.
We did. At one stage.
We both had the same purple aura.
We both had the same visions of the future.
We both wanted the same fucking thing.
So, what happened?

by m


He was always good to me. I know I was his favorite. Without a doubt. He would always favor my opinions and be on my side, majority of the time anyways. He rarely got angry and when he did, he’d come and comfort me afterwards. I mean, he did that with all of us though. 

He wasn’t the best partner though. He treated her badly and in turn she hates her life. She despises him, although they stay amicable, I can see in her eyes that he hurt her real badly and she never got over it. I don’t think she ever will. I’ve told her to. Numerous times. She’s stubborn though. 

I love them both equally. But I get along with him better. We are similar but yet so different. His mistakes have taught me not to intentionally hurt people, no matter what. I don’t hate him for it, but thinking about it still hurts, sometimes. 

He left when we were really young. He never told us he was leaving. He just said he had to live closer to work. I was satisfied with that answer because he would visit every weekend. It was exciting. But I was just a naive child. 

I didn’t think about how she felt every time he came over. I was selfish and only cared about myself. She almost stabbed him once. I woke up in the middle of the night to find her blacked out in the middle of the hallway, with a knife. I tried to wake her up, but I couldn’t. I cried. I thought she had died and I thought it was my fault, somehow thinking that I liked him better forced her to try and kill herself. I will never forget that night. It’s embedded in my brain so vividly, I don’t think it will ever leave me. 

Things got super intense the older we got. He would try and come over but she would try and ignore him while he was knocking on the window or door. It broke my heart that I couldn’t let him in. He would be calling our names and asking us to let him in but she kept telling us to ignore him. 

Growing up, I always missed him living with us. I mean, he’s still around, but I wanted him to be around all the time. Although he was at times an asshole, he was still an important person to me. He still is. I hated how she would always speak badly of him and try and make us hate him. I know why she did it now, but it still made me angry. 

When things were good, she would let us go out with him. He used to drive this ugly orange car, that he loved. We used to pretend we were Cinderella going inside the pumpkin carriage. 

That’s probably the only happy memory I have of him. Which is sad. I don’t look at my childhood with a smile, but when I look back all I can do is cry. 

I don’t hate her for bringing us up the way she did. She was in a foreign country, she couldn’t speak the language, and he ditched her. I know she did her best and I think because she is such a strong woman, we grew up well. 

But at times, I wish I could go back, and change things. Maybe my view on love, relationship and marriage might be more pure than it is now, if he hadn’t done what he did. 


She’s never felt beautiful. She’s never felt sexy. She despised the way she looked. She was fat, too overweight, not pretty enough, didn’t have perfect teeth, didn’t have a thin face, was shit at putting make up on. All those things, a girl, supposedly had to be, she wasn’t.

She told herself, that it didn’t matter. She tried to be strong and ignore what was the norm in society. But then she looks at magazines and people on tv, and realises, that she is one really ugly person.

She was the funny one in her group of friends, because what other good trait did she have? She would make jokes about her weight, about how she looked, all while everyone laughed at her. With her. She was fine with that, she knew she was fat. She knew she wasn’t pretty. She would compliment her friends all the time, because they were, gorgeous. Not just on the outside, but just as much on the inside. They exuded confidence, they knew they were beautiful. Her friends always told her they were jealous of her confidence, if only they knew what went through her mind when she looked at them.

She was fat from the moment she was born. Yes, fat babies are cute, but fat girls are not. She’s tried countless diets, countless regimes. Some succeeded, some did not. It wasn’t the lack of her trying either. She would wake up early, to fit in her exercise, to make herself feel better, more confident. But that just made her feel like shit. She would watch what she ate, and be starving for most of the day, no matter how much vegetables she ate, she wasn’t satisfied. She didn’t wanna eat unhealthy, she actually liked healthy foods, but she hated how people were able to be thin, while eating shit. Everything she ate, made her fatter. Made her bigger. More ogre like.

She hated the way she looked. She didn’t wanna look like this anymore. She was all outta ideas. She hated when people complimented her and told her she was hot. She knew they were lying. She would rather someone hack away at her fat, while she was conscious then be lied to.

She struggled to find clothing that she liked. Or fit for that matter. She couldn’t find anything that didn’t show her stomach, her big bulging, Shrek like stomach. She couldn’t find anything that would hide her back fat. She hated wearing bras, she knew people stared at the fat overflowing from where her bra was in place. She couldn’t wear jeans, for the fear of them ripping. She couldn’t wear skirts or dresses, because she knew no one wanted to see her fat legs. She doesn’t like wearing sleeveless clothing either, because her arms, are so fat, they look like two huge fat, flat slugs.

You couldn’t see her collar bone. She didn’t like her fat neck, the fat lump at the back of her neck. She always wanted to try a short hair style, but knew everyone would be disgusted at the lump. She had big fat boobs, that, some men liked, but she felt were too big. She tries to hide them, but in turn, that makes her look fatter. She didn’t like her hands. They were short, chubby and squarish. It was disgusting. She made sure her nails were always painted in the hope that it would distract people from her behemoth hands. Her most hated part was her stomach. It was so horribly disgusting, that she could not look at herself in the mirror without a disgusted face. Even her vagina was fat. What the fuck is up with that? She had a huge fat ass, that never fit into anything. She had gross, fat thighs with cellulites everywhere. She had disgusting calves, which bulged out because of how fat they were. Even her toes were fat.

Her boyfriend tells her she’s pretty. Or hot. Or sexy. All of which are a lie. She doesn’t even know how she even lost her virginity to begin with. She is always in a constant battle of not caring and then caring so dramatically.

If she took her skin off, she would be a big, green ogre inside. Like Shrek.

by m


It’s tumultuous. It’s complicated. It’s bloody hard. There is passion and intensity like no other. The emotions felt, are real, yet somewhat dream like. It isn’t for the faint hearted. It makes the heart and mind fight against each other. Makes them battle out what is logical and what isn’t. None of that matters. It is always clear the winner is going to be the heart. 

It melts away the problems. It melts away all the bad thoughts in the mind. It can even heal to an extent. It makes the mind think of the future. What it may hold. What possibilities there are. A fruitful future. A happy one. It makes the visions, pink. Like in a field of tulips. Free. Liberated. Warm. 

It makes the mind go crazy. It brings in sadness, heartache and madness. It makes the mind think of stupid shit. Shit that normally doesn’t matter. It questions the soul and feelings. Is that a logical thought? Is the future realistic? Does it seem like it would be a possibility? So many questions. But no answers. The answers are hidden. Hidden in the passion. The redness of the passion, like a small red Cartier box, hides the answers that it seeks. 

But it builds. It passes that phase. It builds to a crescendo that unravels all the secrets. The lid of the box opens, and it finds what it needs. It comes to an understanding, not a stand still, an emotional truce. Between the heart and mind. That’s the moment, it flourishes. It thrives. It gains momentum, and every single question ever raised, goes out the window. All of a sudden, it becomes annulled. It doesn’t matter anymore. Because in the end, the heart gets what it wants. 

True love. True passion. Realistic love. That’s all that matters. Love always wins. No matter how hard or complicated it may be. It always finds a way to win the argument. It always finds a way to win over the mind. 

by m 


I remember the day quite vividly. As if it were yesterday. It was a cold day and my then boyfriend and I went to an internet cafe, as we had nothing else to do. The cafe was dark and grungy. Smelt like an old toilet mixed with old sweat and cheese balls. It didn’t help that the heater was on full blast and no windows were open, so it was super stuffy with all the cigarette smoke. It was not the most hygienic place, but my boyfriend liked it. He wanted to spend nine hours there, because that was the deal. Nine hours for six dollars. Cheap, yes, but not too sure if thats where you would take your girlfriend out to. Nevertheless, I was all out of fucks, as I was planning on breaking up with him the next day. I don’t know why I decided to go out with him that day. But I did. And thats where I met him.

Okay, not met physically, more like he suddenly appeared on my MSN chat list. Yes, I used to use that a lot. It was my form of texting back in the day, when no one had iPhones and I definitely was too young to even be able to afford one myself, even if it did exist. Although I did own a phone, that was capable of going online and taking photos.

So there I was, just being bored and looking for interesting things to do, online, when all of a sudden a chat window popped up. At first, I looked at the name, and I had no idea who it was. It was a mystery, but his display picture looked kinda cute, he had a scruffy kinda face, with facial hair and extremely short hair, he looked european. So I decided to get to know him. I know what you’re all thinking, that Im a bitch for chatting with another guy when my boyfriend was sitting right next to me, but I assure you, there was no flirting, well, not that day anyways.

At the time I was 18, and he, was 19. I had never gotten along so well with somebody as much as I did with him that day. I spoke to him for the full nine hours we were there. It wasn’t small talk, it was a surprisingly in-depth conversation. Over chat. Didn’t think that was possible. He also didn’t abbreviate words like some 19 year olds did. He actually spoke, no, typed, in full sentences and used proper grammar and punctuation. Boy, was that attractive.

So our nine hours had come to an end, and as I was saying goodbye to him, he asked me for my number. I hesitated. I don’t know why, but I did. I guess the goody goody within me was questioning whether this guy was real or not. I had to make up my mind quickly, as my boyfriend was telling me to hurry up and screaming at me from the counter. So without a second thought, I typed my number in and said my goodbye and logged out.

We walked out of the cafe, which was a refreshing burst of fresh air. I felt like my lungs had been clogged by all the dust and murky air of cigarettes from inside the cafe. I breathed in, what possible fresh air I could, considering we were in the city, and there is fumes and pollution everywhere, but so much nicer and fresher than inside that cafe. I stretched my cramp muscles out on the path. Sitting down for nine hours, is way too much sitting. My ass hurt.

My boyfriend put his arm around my shoulder, and started pulling me towards the car. It felt kind of uncomfortable knowing that I was going to end this tomorrow. So I gently pulled myself away from his hold, not obviously, just subtly so he wouldn’t catch on that something was wrong.

We got inside his car, a Mazda 3, that he adored. I normally would go in and make myself conformable, putting my feet up on the dashboard. He hated that. But he never told me off for it. Not this day though, I didn’t, even put my legs up like I used to. I kinda felt like I should be respectful one last time, while I sat in his car. I even let him choose what songs to listen to. They were horrible, but I kept that to myself. He asked me what was wrong, but I just said nothing, that I was tired, and wanted to go home. He was hungry so we went to the most romantic restaurant there is, Mcdonalds. I have nothing against Maccas, but I wanted to eat something proper, rather than fast food, but alas, we always end up there.

While my boyfriend was driving through the drive thru, I told him what I wanted and then checked my phone. There was a message from a number, I hadn’t seen before. I opened it up and it was the guy from my MSN list. I was actually really surprised that he messaged me straight away. It wasn’t one of those, here’s my number message, but a proper one. I couldn’t believe he wanted to still talk to me after we had spoken for nine hours straight. I responded simply with a, hi, in the hopes that he couldn’t read any emotions from it. He texted right back, but I decided not to open it and ignored my phone for the rest of the night.

My boyfriend and I ate our dinner, and then he drove me home. For some reason, I felt like I had to tell him then and there, so once we arrived at my place, I told him that we had to end this. He was really shocked as I had not given any indication of it previously. He was baffled and had nothing to say in return, so I looked at him and grabbed his hand. I told him he was really good to me, and I will also have a spot for him in my heart, because that was the true, and wished him well and then I left.

The next morning, I opened the text message from the guy, and he wanted to meet up. So I agreed. At first I hesitated, but something was telling me to just go for it. We decided to meet up for a movie, a movie I had no interest in, so I cannot even for the life of me, remember the movie title, but I didn’t really care as I was just intrigued to see him in reality and see where this would take us.

The date was set for the weekend which was three days after he had asked me. I was so nervous, I thought I was going to vomit. I didn’t know what to wear, or what to do with my unruly hair. I hadn’t dressed up nicely in such a long time, that I forgot how to. I eventually opted for something casual seeing as it was just the movies.

On the day of the date, I got dressed, wearing a skirt and my red favourite top. I was much thinner then so anything made my breasts look good, which I kinda liked. I, then brushed my hair, which I never did, so it was usually a birds nest, but thought I should at least make myself look presentable. I got my bag, my keys and my phone. I was about to walk out the door, when I got super nervous. I closed the door, and took a few deep breathes. I kept thinking to myself how stupid I was to be this nervous. I mean, I was going to the movies, not some weird scary place or to his house. I collected myself and headed out the door.

I got to the cinemas first, so I waited. I didn’t know what to do so I played a game called snakes on my phone. I realised I had no cash, so I walked to the ATM and tried to get cash out, but then to my horror, my bank card got stuck. I was mortified. I had no cash, or card, and I was panicking, wondering how the hell I was going to pay for the movie. I wasn’t expecting him to pay for me.

Just as I got my phone out to cancel on him, he called my name. I turned around and was happily surprised at how cute he actually was in person. I smiled and stood there like an idiot. Just smiling. Then I quickly remembered my idiotic situation with my bank card. So I blurted that out saying I have no money because my bank card is stuck in the ATM machine. He was ever so sweet. He offered to pay, not that he had any choice, and told me to immediately call my bank, so I did. They were sending me a new card in a few weeks, which obviously didn’t help me at the time. But he looked like a hero to me then, in my moment of panic. I mean, I really didn’t need to panic that much, but I was horrified that I was going to have to get him to pay.

We got our tickets, he got some popcorn, I went to the bathroom. I always need to urinate before I go into the movies. Then we walked together to the allocated room and found our seats. We sat down and he got to talking. He was super funny and had the most cutest voice. It was deep and husky, and his laugh was so sexy. It made me smile so hard because I didn’t think someone that looked like that would want to even talk to a person like me. Then, out of nowhere, he kissed me as the cinema lights were dimming. I was so glad the room got dark because I was definitely blushing. Bright red. I asked him what that was for, and he said I like you. You’re cute and you have nice lips. I was like OH MY GOD. I was definitely screaming inside but tried to keep it cool on the outside. He then kissed me again. But the kiss was sweet. Not rushed, not overly passionate, seeing as we were in the cinemas, but it was urgent enough to know that he actually genuinely liked me. I don’t remember the movie at all. The only thing I remember is how my lips felt after touching his and how he held my hand all through the movie and even after we left.

The rest of the afternoon was a haze. I don’t remember much, nor do I remember what we did. I have a vague memory of eating, but I know I didn’t eat, cause I couldn’t stomach anything, with all the butterflies. He walked me to the station and we bid farewell. It was bittersweet. But he assured me we’d hang out again, then he gave me one long kiss and then I went home in utter bliss.

This is where shit got real. It had been a few weeks since that date, and I had not heard from him. I knew it was too good to be real. I didn’t bother texting or calling him either. Back then, I thought that was the guys job.

The odd thing is, just as I was about to forget him, he calls me. He was so casual and was apologetic, as he felt like a dick for not texting or calling earlier. I don’t know what it is about him, but I forgave him on the spot. I was all casual and saying don’t worry about it, but in reality, at the back of my head, I was analysing every single detail. We talked for a whole week and we decided to meet up again. This time, he wanted to take me for a drive.

So this continued for about 10 years. We would meet up, he’d say he’d call, but he never did, then out of the blue, when I had just started to forget about him, he’d call and give me the same excuse. But every single time, I accepted his fucked up excuses.

Then the older we got, we kept missing opportunities to see each other. Every time I had a boyfriend, he would be single and every time I was single, he would have a girlfriend. There was no jealousy or animosity between us, but I got to the point, where I had enough of being fucked around by him, so I stopped talking to him for a year. During that year, I had a child. But without a doubt, he was back in my life. He was super nice about my having a child and he seemed to have matured dramatically. Seemed being the keyword.

He decided to ask me out again, and I accepted. We were planning to meet up, and he was going to come pick me up. He then calls me ten mins before we were supposed to meet and tells me he can’t make it. Just as well, I didn’t even bother getting ready as I had an inkling that this would happen. I told him it was fine and that I would speak to him some other time.

Then a few weeks down the track, he asked me to meet him where we had first met for the movies. So I, stupidly, agreed. I went to the location and waited. And waited. And waited. For I would say a good 2 hours. During that time, I tried calling and texting and calling. He didn’t pick up nor did he text me back. I was furious. I felt so stupid and idiotic, that I would trust this guy who kept ditching me at the last minute. I went home, in such a bad mood.

The next day, he calls me at 6:30am. I was already pissed off so this phone call was not helping my mood at all. I answered by saying what, as rudely as I could and he was surprised I was so pissed off, so I proceeded to hang up.

As usual, months went by. I was busy with my life and I didn’t even think of him once. He then calls me and tells me he is moving states. I felt my heart beat twice, but I wasn’t sure why. There was nothing exciting nor anything sad happening. He then asked me that he wanted me to move with him, because he thought we were meant to be. I was so shocked and surprised that, thats what he thought. I laughed and told him that we weren’t and he was adamant to make me change my mind. I was nice about it and flattered but I told him we weren’t and that I’m not interested anymore. I felt so liberated and so relieved that this little part of my life was over.

I really liked that dude. He was nice, and sweet and sexy. But there was never any stability with him. His other girlfriends may have enjoyed that, but I wasn’t that kind of girl. Yes, there was undoubtedly, a really massive attraction between us, but thinking back on it now, I would say it was more sexual than it was romantic. I didn’t love him nor did I like him to the point, where I wanted to see how things panned out. It was a little fling or a crush but it was nothing more nor nothing less.

It’s funny how you remember details about somebody, like the color shirt he was wearing on your first date, which was blue by the way, or the color of his car, which was also blue, I think his favourite color was blue. Things that were so minor then, is what reminds you of them now. I did see him once at a show, and he looked back at me and smiled, and I thought he looked familiar but I couldn’t pick out from where until later. He looked older, obviously, but he still looked really good. And sometimes thats where it ends. Because I couldn’t be happier now with the person I’m with right now, and if it weren’t for that guy on my MSN list, I wouldn’t have learnt so much about myself and so much about how the world of dating worked, in the short span of knowing him, oh, but I guess ten years is pretty long!

by m