this is the end. Please. let it be the end.


My temperament is sporadically inconsistent. Because my mind is everywhere. And nowhere. A simultaneous absence and presence. All this ambivalence centered on the loss of sanity. My reactions lack humanistic substance and are instead characterized by melodrama.

Please don’t wake me up.

And so I pursue everything holding a morsel of substance, however shallow, to keep me distracted. To be kept away from myself; from my own disregard; my own absence. I gamble constantly with my preferences. Mindful presence means admitting inadequacies. I am a glass tower founded on breakage, and containing nothing. I am no longer anyone.

Please don’t wake me up.

Oh! How amazingly gifted I am at accomplishing mediocrity. It seems I aim for that which is average, yet it still startles me that I lack interest and commitment. How widely inferior! While the world’s more inclined components journey on, I remain stuck in muddy equivocation. I can’t move and I’m suffocating. Let me.

And don’t fucking wake me up this time.

The cynicism that aligns itself with my being is astounding. You sense disappointment, deception, shame. Everyone is a vessel of weakness. Yet you hold down these cheap judgments so as not to affect any other. Also, to remain yours. I could never fully offer myself nor explain why I’m incapable of doing so. I want to be my nothing exclusively.

Please, please don’t wake me up.

But this persistent and selective mindful presence tends to prop up erratically as a reminder that I still need to be perceived as good. I once was desperate for anything to hold onto. It calls into question the danger of accepting and remaining content within emptiness. It is a conditional acceptance. There’s a demand that comes with it. A small, soft, constant whine.

Please don’t wake me up this time.

I am my own threat.



A Letter to the First Version of Myself.


I don’t tell you enough how desperately I miss you.

Up until now, our lives have been enormously accelerated – and I’m still waiting for us to coincide again. Remind me; were we accidentally separated, or did I knowingly and maliciously walk away from you? It doesn’t seem to matter now – we’re still the same person. What I do remember is your constant panicky nature which masked your sincere purity. It won’t surprise you to know that you lose that to become the most contaminated being. Mostly, I remember your invariable need to self-sacrifice. That much has not changed.

Did you think that 10 years later, things would change? Let me indulge you in a truth that will destroy whatever is left of your nothingness because I am fully aware and conscious of the circumstances of our departure. We agreed to separate. You needed me to become someone else – someone strong enough to hold us up. Instead, I was led astray; sometimes by others, mostly on my own initiative. People are evil. Malicious. We were hurt. A lot. Constantly. It seems that hurt knows no end. Ironically, I successfully became a different someone – I’m bringing back to you the biggest danger you will encounter. When I find you, I can’t make you stronger. I will poison you. We’re disgusting and nothing to be loved. We lack compassion and empathy and most times kindness. We’re wholly corrupted and I’ve come to believe that that’s what was intended for us. Attempting to escape has become futile and merely habitual. I have faced ceaseless failures. My darkness is more overpowering than any light that you have left in you. I couldn’t save you. Us. I couldn’t find a way out.

Nights are still long – you still find yourself in a recurrent daze trying to find any sign of a heartbeat. The prospect of it fading into your darkness still gives you exhilarated chills. Mornings are still disappointing – still rising with a blank mind and a revived heartbeat. You only live as long as your next attempt.


I know you’ll fight it – stupid, stupid heart. When you come to realize that there is no cleanse in the world that can scour our grimy soul, you’ll let the dove go.

Smile. Keep your heart wrapped up tight. And don’t allow anything to spill. Because. We know what it is. But. We aren’t equipped to deal with anything that pours out. And no one else deserves to try.

I don’t tell you enough how desperately I miss you.

Unsolicited validation – A short story


missing: validation

I hate validation.

Not before.

It was a requirement – a prerequisite.

Make me.

Make me feel

beautiful and

worthy and


Make me feel something.

An inconvenience now. A frustration. Take my body, kind stranger. Tell me fucking lies and

Make me feel.

Speak deceitful words of love. Force me into your corner.

I’m vulnerable. Tell me I’m not.

I’m weak. Tell me I’m not.

I’m so fucking stupid. Tell me I’m not.


Should I validate you?

Best I’ve ever had. You’re not.


You’re not.


You’re not.

Because I use you. Do you think you possess control? Do you manipulate me?

Am I the most beautiful woman in the world because I currently lay on your bed with my pussy wide open?

You have no control nor do you have power over me. I lay here because it is what I have willed. I will be fucked because it is what I have asked for.


not always.

i didnt ask for you. i refused to even let your lips touch mine – a fact. yet, there i was. screaming no onto deaf ears. with a torn shirt and jeans pulled down to my knees. and your head – your head which reeked of cheap vodka, shitty weed, and stale chlorine – tuckd tightly between my legs. and i froze. i guess i am fucking weak – fucking stupid. you come up and youre ready – trying to push yourself into me with your pathetic limp dick. roll over. and pass out. and then silence.

The heart is certainly something to be restrained and gagged.

What I despise


Self-loathing has become a norm. I sit wondering how I myself am able to tolerate something so putrid and vile. A soul so dark that it repels its possessor. It wreaks havoc in innocent lives and creates chaos. How romantic. Stirrings within crises as its main motivation – and so it creates and manifests everything broken and unsavoury. It somehow prefers to blossom within the realms of abuse and destruction because it follows the sole instruction to endure and survive. It grows through only harsh reminders and a few broken bones. It doesn’t quiver under threats of violence. It begs for more. However, circumstances are not always conducive to its growth. How amusing. You cannot thrive and dominate within the realms of peace and harmony, my dear. It needs to be reminded of its nothingness; of its emptiness. Because on its own accord, it chooses to change; to grow.

Addicted to the thrill of despair, it is a chaos-creator – show me more pain; hurt me, break me; unearth me. Kill me. Attracted to parasitic demons who live off the lives of the vulnerable and angels of death, more cousins of Satan and the like. A damaged soul – a parasite itself; nourished, revitalized only by those pleading eyes which occupy only the most tortured bodies. Hurt me. Your weakness is my power.




It pleases such a soul to see you so destroyed – so wonderfully shattered. Tell me of your pain. Tell me how you wish to feel peace again.

Your inner peace is nothing.

Your inner peace means nothing.

Offer your tortured soul and sacrifice yourself for the good of those who honour and uplift their own destruction.

Peace is nothing.

Self-loathing. A soul so deviant and crushed – putrid and repellant.

My own.

Layers of Masks


January 2, 2016

Every night, I encapsulate myself in a bubble of loneliness and grief – so as not to force others to dwell in the same depressing place. On the first night, I was in a state of complete shock and I was overcome by a captivating wave of confusion. Everything happened so fast, but not at all in the way that I wanted it to. I threw out all my irrational thoughts, all of my unreasonable emotions. And as I finished, I put on a facade – as though I were in complete control of myself and my situation. As though I were confident and bold. But even so, every part of me inside was breaking.

On the second night, I was overwhelmed by immense fear and pain. The fear of being alone and leaving everything that I had once cherished behind. I cried – because there was only one person who I sought solace from; one person I wanted to run to; to lay with; one person who would hold me and make me feel as though all other entities did not exist; all others did not matter except me. One person. The one who I, overtime had come to resent. The one who pulled me into a trap of public humiliation and embarrassment. The one who had made me feel pain like nothing else that I had ever experienced. The one who I had hurt. All I wanted, was that one person – because he was the one that I had always had – and the thought of not having him anymore filled me with more fear than I could have ever imagined. I kept thinking about the pain I was feeling.

“What do I have to do?”

I begged – and I argued and debated – all with myself about how to deal with what I was feeling. And then, when I was again lucid and rational, I realized that this – being alone and expelling my toxic thoughts – was how I, unknowingly, had chosen to deal with it. Once I had finished, again, I put on my smile, I complained of being tired – so as not to arouse any suspicion – and I slept.

Tonight will be the third night. It will be about everyone that I stand to lose after he leaves – it will be more challenging to overcome – because now my energy will be focused on more than just the one. I fear losing support and love from those on whom I channel most of my energy. It is naive to think that they will continue to surround me – it is realistic, more rational and wise to know that they won’t. Tonight, again, I will need a new facade, a new mask – one that is so opaque, that not even the wisest mind will see through it.


The Supposedly New Beginning


January 1, 2016

The end. Last night – pure nightmare. Unquestionably bilious. Everything had happened so fast and I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want it to stop. It was entirely enthralling and somewhat risible. This invigorating turmoil stirred up so much hatred and anger. Ironically, it brought Him peace.

I thought about my fear of being alone. But he took my hand and brought the color back to my face, he allowed my heart to beat again. “Over these last few days – I didn’t think it was possible – but I fell in love with you so much more”.  His words have always been so pure and contumacious. I asked him for certainty and he brought it to me. He’s confused but confident. I don’t want to be a mistaken choice – And he reassured me that after all these years, I have always been His only choice.

He stands to lose everything. He says he stands to gain so much more. I grow irritable –

“Stop choosing me.”

He angers.

“Whose choice is it to make?”

Why can’t he see – I’m trying to protect him, to save him the same way that he saved me. He’s stubborn. I calm and allow him to do what feels right. But I again, I emphasize,

“Choosing me is not doing right, my love.”

Of course, he disagrees.

His words are entirely provocative – he continuously asks me for a solution.


I tell him that I would force him to stop choosing me and disappear.

And then, silence.

And we stay together. All night. Devastatingly in love.