Through the glass she looked

She was the innocent child thrown out to the wolves and learnt to crave his knife to lead the pack instead. Adventure was her snowflake that beckoned her to come out and play. Through the looking glass at the end of the tunnel she stood; taking her breath away was the last thing on his mind. She was never his or her own. She belonged to something far too unknown. She detested recycled stories of boy-meets-girl. Yet, she got entangled in his dream catcher and all she could do was stare. Weak men ran away from her cause they lacked the strength to fix the broken. He was a fixer and knew exactly how many and where the stitches go!


If only I could get a date

For a girl who grew up on a heavy dose of E.E. Cummings, John Keats and William Shakespeare; she knew that love was a hit and miss in the tragedy of a world that swipes right or double-taps to get someone’s attention.

In cafe, by the city highway;
In the middle aisle, future ex-lovers sitting across from each other (in denial)
Oblivious of that making their hearts flutter,
will one day deplete their tissues causing all the clutter.
Dating someone is defined by the number of likes their happy selfies got on ‘gram
Happiness becomes subjected to camera rolls that won’t give a damn.
These will someday be empty deleted items notifications just like their soul,
In flashback you can see how he made her eyes roll.

All dates including these come with an expiry (date):
love doesn’t happen by chance, the wise ones say its fate!
If only I could get a date for once,
love wouldn’t pronounce me as such a dunce.

Play it cool, independent girls don’t love

The feelings rush into your heart as fast as gasoline setting on fire. It has been too long since you’ve felt this way and it burns deep. You try to play it cool as much as possible, but you’re the type to wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s inevitable – the wants, the needs, the desires.

Everyone tells you to let him come to you. At this age though, why is that still a thing? You’re over the games, you’ve dealt with being alone and you’ve experienced love followed by heartbreak. You know what you want and that shouldn’t be your fault.

The days you’re together are magical, and the nights those lead into are a fairytale. You start getting to know everything about each other. Staying up until 4 am asking and answering every question imaginable becomes routine. He gives no indication you’re moving to fast, no sign of turning back, no thought of wanting to slow down.

Then there come the nights he wants nothing to do with you. You’ve discussed the whole communicating thing and expressing feelings. You’ve had endless talks about your sensitivity and your neediness. At the time, he believes “it’s cute”, “it’s endearing”, but in reality, its pushing him away-until he’s gone.

Feelings of insecurity and hopelessness surround your brain. Second guessing yourself becomes a daily activity. Why isn’t he inviting me out with his friends? Why doesn’t he want to constantly spend time with me? Why doesn’t he try to go above and beyond? You’re used to being the pursued not the one pursuing and it’s killing you.

How is it fair that because feelings overwhelm your brain and because you acknowledge them, you’re in the wrong? I want a love that is pure and magical but apparently that is too much to handle.

I’m an independent woman. I am strong, I am smart, I am outgoing but all of that combined with knowing what I want, is against society’s norms. I am not allowed to express how I feel, I am crazy if I am too interested in someone, I am needy if I want to see the person I like multiple times a week.

I can’t control it though. I deserve a person that doesn’t just “handle” me but truly wants me. I deserve to not only feel happiness from myself but also from my partner. While some might think that’s too much to ask, it shouldn’t be.

Getting in bed with a Lioness

A strong woman is a not force to be reckoned with. She is more real than kind, but also more kind than most people you will ever meet. She knows what she deserves and she knows exactly how she should be treated. So, to date a strong woman, you also must be strong.

A strong woman wants to always be treated with respect. You don’t have to give her a dozen red roses on Valentine’s day, you don’t have to woo her with sweet handwritten poems, and you don’t even have to give her anything for her birthday.

But, you better be damn sure that you tell her what she means to you. You better be damn sure you always let her know that she is never alone, even if she tries to put up a wall between you two. To date a strong woman, you need to be able to man the f**k up. With all the cracks her heart has endured through the years, she has turned it into steel. But, you need to break down those barriers and see what’s inside. You need to be able to hear her story and not run. You need to be able to hold her hand through the times when she doesn’t seem so strong anymore and through the times when she is flying on top of the world. Never stop vocalizing to her about how she makes you feel. You don’t have to put rose petals on the ground to do this. You don’t even need to give her a diamond ring on her shaking finger.

You just need to say it loud, and proud, without any hesitation. Because, although she is strong and mighty, she is also human. And humans can break. Humans can hurt. And humans can have trouble feeling like they are never good enough.

She just wants to be enough for you. She wants to make you happy and to see you smile when she kisses you out of the blue. She just wants to make your heart beat a little faster when you see her driving in your driveway. She just wants the little reminders that she is enough.

She needs to know that she is always enough.

To date and to love a strong woman, you need to validate this need. You need to step up your game, forget your ego, and give her reassurance that she is beautiful. She doesn’t need to play pretend for you, or put on her pounds of makeup. She doesn’t need to make you chocolate covered strawberries for you on Valentine’s day or squeeze into a little black dress for your anniversary.

And when you finally realize that you are falling for her, please don’t hide. Don’t run away. Don’t be scared. Just say it. Because when you tell a strong woman you love her, she will believe you. And you better be damn sure you do, because if you break a strong woman’s heart, she won’t give you a second chance.

And she will always know, that she is worth so much more than a false whisper of “I love you”.

Sometimes the strength is a something borrowed, sometimes it comes from within

I will always be the girl that answers your call

When you miss me, just call.

Why do we overcomplicate things? Take our lives and twist them in circles? Make our emotions messy and muddled and misconstrued until we aren’t even sure what we’re feeling anymore?

Pick up. Dial. Pause. Speak. It’s really just that simple.

When you come across a photograph of me on your Facebook, stuffed in between all those newsfeed and daily memes. When you see my handwriting on card and gift I sent you. When you see the way my pictures of the sunset gleaming off my wine glass. When you take that selfie to send to a new girl you met. When you say those words you pet named me with. When you smile after seeing one of those doggy pictures I sent.

When you remember those 45 seconds air time on your lips, I hope you remember me.

I hope that ache cuts deep, I hope that loneliness sets in, and I hope, most of all, that you reach for me. Across all the skies and galaxies we stay beneath, across wind and weather and static phone lines. Across cities and states and different dreams, I hope you reach for me.

Because no matter the time or distance, I’ll always love the sound of your voice.

There is a world of difference between us. Words that were said, and bitten back. Laughter that was shared, and stifled. Thoughts that were expressed, and held hostage in our brains. We are now two souls, living independently of one another, chasing our callings, finding our way. But that will never mean you don’t matter to me.

Regardless of where we are right now, your name will still taste like strawberry and first kisses. Like naïveté and stubbornness. Bittersweet. I hope you know I’ll answer whenever it is that you call. ‘Love’ has a funny way of tying hearts together, and I always knew we’d be connected, even if our original feelings are no longer there. We always will be.

So I hope you call when you think of me. When the world has done you, when you long day finishes and you remember the girl who sleeps at 4AM, whenever you text or breathe deep you think of the ’45 seconds of your time’ phrase I use, whenever you think of all I said and you said I’m sweet and strong in return. I hope you push away the fear and muster up the courage. I hope your heart pounds and your hands sweat as you hold your phone in your palms and hit dial.

I hope you think of hanging up a million times, but you don’t. And I hope my ‘hello,’ is just what you want to hear.

Timid. Eager. Confused. Calm. To your Dial. Pause. Speak.

And I hope our voices fall into rhythm, thousands of words and stories to share. Across oceans and rivers, towns and memories, and years passed between us—I hope that phone call fills the gap.

I’ve put the phone down on you

Your name is still listed under my contacts. It would only take two seconds to type out a message and another two seconds for it to reach you. It would be so easy. So simple. But I won’t do it. I miss you like hell, but I refuse to text you.

It’s not my responsibility to keep our relationship alive.
As much as I miss you, I don’t want you in my life if you don’t give a shit about me. And you clearly don’t, because if you did, then you’d be the one to text me. I know you could be sitting there saying the same thing, but I don’t care. Why should I be the one to put my heart on the line when you’re just as capable of picking up your phone and typing out a message?

I’m afraid to find out how you’re doing.
I really really like you, so I don’t want to hear about how busy you are with work and all the pressures that are coming with it. But I like you, so I don’t want to find out that you’re living happily ever after with some woman who isn’t me and is being your strength during this “busy time”. No matter what news you have for me, it’ll kill me to hear it.

Texting you wouldn’t change a thing.
Even if I texted you, even if I rekindled our friendship and the fire hidden inside of it, nothing would come of it. Maybe we’d make plans we could pretend to be excited about and then cancel them at the last second. Maybe we’d actually follow through on those plans and kiss a few times. But it would all end the same. It would end with us losing touch, once again.

I can’t stand the thought of not getting an answer.
What if I actually put aside my dignity and wrote out a sentimental text message that you ended up ignoring? You’ve already hurt me by leaving me hanging and by losing touch with me. I can’t stand the thought of you hurting me once again, of reopening ancient wounds that should’ve been healed by now, especially over the phone.

You’re not worth the trouble.
If I made contact with you, then it would officially be impossible for me to move on. It’s hard enough to forget about how happy I am while you’re out of sight. If I let you back into my life, if I let you remind me of all of the inside jokes and sexual tension we used to share, then I’d ruin the tiny amount of progress I’ve made getting over you.

The person I miss doesn’t exist anymore.
You’re not the same person who used text me eagerly and say lets meet for 10 mins/30 mins or talk about all the kisses he wanted to give me. If you were, then we would’ve met by now, would’ve kisses a thousand times and actually be together. Now, you’re the person who shattered my heart. Who made me scream into a pillowcase. Who reduced me into the moping mess that I swore I’d never become. I don’t like the person you are now. I like the one that’s long gone.

I have no idea what I’d say to you.
I wouldn’t have to say that I missed you. The text alone would insinuate that for me. So then what would I say? That I wish things would’ve ended differently? That I miss sleeping with you? That I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night since you’ve left? Admitting those things wouldn’t make me feel any better, which is why I’m going to put down my phone. My silence says enough.

Every bad boy I’ve fallen for made me stronger for the next one

I’d like to pretend that I never let a bad boy touch me, that I never let a guy I barely know make me cry and that I never got played by a guy who I spent the night with. But, sadly, I have fallen for those games, and I’ve lost them all without so much as a kiss goodbye.

I’ve always thought of myself as a “relationship person”. I never let guys in who only wanted to only “hookup” with me, but along the way, the lines got blurred and the mixed signals I received resulted in a blind hope that things would be different this time. And I thought that the boy who I laid next to in the dark, or the boy who told me I was beautiful, and the boy who swiped right on Tinder, would want me like I wanted them.

During my 25th year, I remember being elated when the boy I had a huge crush on told me he wanted to cook me dinner. I was in a weird place and agreed because my friends were getting engaged or married and moving to the next level. I hadn’t even lost my heart, body or soul to a guy yet. I remember feeling nervous, excited, and the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering like they hadn’t done in a while. I met him and kissed him. He cooked, we ate and did the whole romantic night only to sleep with him later that night. My first time. It was nice and pleasant and all I did was smiled on the way home thinking about how wonderful he was. I woke up to a message from him 2 -3 days later telling me he “I need to understand because he didn’t do relationships and was already seeing someone!” No, I didn’t “understand.” He played me big time. There was no other way to put it.

Years later, I developed a humongous crush on a guy that I thought was your typical “nice guy”. I saw no reason not to trust him. He was charming, sweet and always showered me with compliments. I was hooked. Especially, after he looked at me straight in the eyes telling me I was beautiful and that he was so thankful he had met me. But this story is no different than the one before him. I woke up to a text a few weeks later telling me that his feelings had changed. He liked someone else. I remember feeling defeated. I cried in my bed, wondering what the heck I did wrong and wondering what had made him change his mind.

I thought it was me that caused the loss of him. But really, it was him. And it was his loss.

The boys that have played me, regardless if it was intentional or not, broke me for a little bit. They made me feel as if I had done something wrong. I kept me thinking that maybe if I had slept with them, then it might have have made a difference. And even after I explored that option, their mind had changed. Or maybe if I had texted them less, then they would’ve liked me more. But, slowly I have realized that I had done nothing wrong. These dumb boys didn’t know what they wanted, and thought that they could have their cake and eat it too, they thought it would be fine to mess with someone’s heart.

But, the jokes on them now. It’s funny to think about how much I cared for someone who didn’t have the decency to say how they felt about me in person. It’s funny to think about how these guys still attempt to talk to me, whatsapp and snapchat me, and I now have the power to ignore them.

To the boys who have played me, thank you for teaching me that I am worth more than you will ever be.

Thank you for teaching me that I have more heart than you will ever have. I am stronger because of you and I feel freaking empowered. Thank you for making me realize that I am better than dating a guy who won’t even answer a phone call. Thank you for teaching me how to love myself and not care if you ever did or not.