Category Archives: Uncategorized

Listen

I won’t rant passive aggressively this time. I mean, not at first, anyway. What I really feel lie doing right now is sharing the music I’ve been listening to these past few weeks. Because music is the only thing that has been going good for me right now. Now before I start listing songs I should tell you that I am obsessed with every Hamilton song. Hamilton is the best and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. Still, there are a few favorites other than the musical based on the founding fathers of USA. So here they are:

  1. 505- Arctic Monkeys
  2. Kashmir- Led Zeppelin
  3. Perfect Places- Lorde
  4. Pray: Sam Smith
  5. Gemini Feed- Banks
  6. Irresistible- Fall out Boy ft. Demi Lovato
  7. Affection: Cigarettes after Sex
  8. Mr Brightside: The Killers
  9. Star Power: Sonic Youth
  10. Take me to Church: Hozier
  11. Apocalypse: Cigarettes after sex
  12. Hold me tight or don’t: Fall out Boy
  13. Trip Switch: Nothing but thieves
  14. Cold Cold Cold: Cage the Elephant
  15. 5,4,3,2,1 (Murder Song): Aurora
  16. Do I Wanna Know?: Arctic Monkeys
  17. Carry on my wayward son: Kansas
  18. Heat of the Moment: Asia
  19. Dream a little dream of me: Ella Fitzgerald
  20. Arabella: Arctic Monkeys
  21. New Rules: Dua Lipa
  22. Babe I’m gonna leave you: Led Zeppelin
  23. Set Fire to the Third Bar: Snow Patrol
  24. The Ballad of Gus and Sam: Ferraby Lionhart
  25. Can’t be happening: The Marlows
  26. Forrest Whitaker: Bad Books
  27. Back to Black: Amy Winehouse
  28. Too Late to say goodbye: Cage the Elephant
  29. Bad at Love: Halsey
  30. Why’d you only call me when you’re high: Arctic Monkeys
  31. Wonderwall: Oasis
  32. River: Eminem ft. Ed Sheeran
  33. Suck it and see: Arctic Monkeys
  34. Come a little closer: Cage the elephant
  35. If I get high: Nothing but thieves
  36. Monster: Kanye West ft. Jay-Z, Bon Iver and Nikki Minaj
  37. For You: Angus and Julia Stone
  38. Runaway: Aurora
  39. Like Home: Eminem ft. Alicia Keys
  40. Starboy: The Weeknd ft. Daft Punk

Obviously my taste in music is very weird and all over the place. But I really like all these songs, plus Hamilton :P. Oh, and also cheesy 90s Bollywood music. I am who I am, man. But I really really recommend all these songs that I’ve listed above to everyone.

Now for the rant, I actually have nothing new. Same old trivial issues that my head can’t process.  No wait, I do. It’s more of a thing I wish I had. So like three of my friends broke up with their boyfriends in the past  two weeks. I was sad about only one because that dude was legit a nice person. Anyway, not my dysfunctional relationship, not my decision. So now what I’m envious about is that two of them are already schtumping someone else. No judgement man, because again, not my body, not my place. I’m only envious in the sense like wow, how are you just so confident about everything? It takes me sixty four years to be comfortable intimately with someone because I hate my body and the way I look. So I just wish I had that kind of confidence within myself that I don’t have to think twice about what I want to do with my body.

That’s it.

 

 

 

 

 

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Hi Hi Hi!!

Let’s get ready for an overdue passive aggressive rant about everything that has happened to me since April of this year!!!! Are these exclamation marks making you uncomfortable??!!!! Good!!!! because that’s the purpose!!

So in April I completely declared a family member dead. At least to me. Am I a bad person for this? Yes of course but you know what that dude isn’t a saint, either. So April was a stressful time for me.

Then came May. For the fourth May of my life I was out giving interviews and exams to get into colleges. I was a twenty year old, who had given up 2 years of law school. This time I went only to the places where I had a chance.   Everyone was younger than me and it made me feel quite old. That waiting period between giving an interview and hearing about the result is the worst. I was the most suicidal I had ever been in my life. But something moderately good happened. Then it fucking came to fucking light that my parents are the most dysfunctional couple to ever exist in the history of creation. Long story short, one third of the college fund that I had earned for myself was gone. I could no longer afford to live outside on my own. And I would rather have maggots eating my eyeballs than ask for money from someone else. After dealing with that shit, I took a mini vacation to Assam. Big mistake for a very small reason. I had an allergic reaction to the water and to this date I have the remains of rashes all over my body. With my life it’s always one step forward and fucking three steps back.

Then In June my mother broke her collarbone. As shitty as it sounds, it didn’t make a big difference because she went back to live with her mother. Yes, as in separation. That was for the best, if you ask me. I’m an adult and my brother is in boarding school, so she didn’t have a lot keeping her here. Not a problem. This separation was long overdue, so it’s fine. She did ask me to come with her but the only way I’m leaving this house is if I’m dead. I’m Alan, bitch. You can’t get rid of me. I also very reluctantly cut my hair short. I had to do it because it was damaged and you could no longer tell if it was black or blue or copper from the ends. It was one ugly mixture of all three so I chopped them off. Also around 27th, I got my period after almost a year. And it was horrific and my uterus felt like the battleground for the Battle of Bastards. This period lasted ten days.

Then in July Diksha moved back. She also left three years of architecture and finally came back home. I think it helped her to have me right there with her, having given up law. It was bittersweet not having an excuse to go to Bhopal every other weekend and partying the shit out of my mind. Not to mention her super hot friends. But I guess her mental health gets an upper seat on the priority shelf than my stupid libido. Then I went to my OB/GYN to harass her until she figured out what the actual fuck was going on with my fucking ovaries. She told me after a really expensive series of tests that both my ovaries were lazy. Apparently that’s a legit medical terminology: Lazy ovaries. I guess it would make sense because every fiber of my being is lazy, so my ovaries would be lazy, too. But what the fuck, man? They sure seem over-active to me? How does this work? If anyone was to have such a stupid condition, it would of course be me.

Around August I started to lose my mind a little. I was hitting on anything that moves for absolutely no reason at all. I wasn’t even interested in guys who were giving me their phone numbers or socials or whatever. Lol there was this one time when I almost started to talk to 36 year old but thanks to social media I found what his age was and didn’t end up a case on TV. And how can I leave out my breakdown of Independence Day. It was a normal day. I ordered pizza, ate the entire thing by myself and watched Supernatural season 10. Then there’s this particular episode where Dean slaughters an entire room full of people and Sam finds him helpless on the floor of the room. (Backstory: Dean has the Mark of Cain and a very strong urge to kill. He killed a room full of pedophiles. DON’T JUDGE MY DEAN OK?!) I started to fucking scream. No words no profanities just five hours of my voice going AAAAARRRGGGGHHHHH. Don’t know why it happened, don’t know how it stopped. Hasn’t happened since so I guess it doesn’t matter.

In September I was bedridden for about a month. It was very funny, actually. So like an absolute idiot that I am, I somehow managed to drop a ceramic plate on my foot and split it open. My house, from the kitchen to the living room was covered in blood. No one was home and my phone was upstairs so I just shouted until my sister heard me outside and took me to the nearest hospital before I passed out. The nearest hospital isn’t very good, though. They didn’t put those stitches which would dissolve over time, instead they put the ones which had to be removed after three weeks. That fucking sucked. My foot looked like a stuffed chicken and as a result my feet are now more repulsive than ever. And the worst part was not being able to go anywhere on my own, having to always hold someone’s arm while walking and the worst of all? Not smoking. I do not think I’ll be able to do that ever again.

Then came Diwali which didn’t feel like Diwali at all. There was no family to celebrate with. I didn’t want to impose on someone else’s family because no matter how much someone else’s parents love you, being with them on Diwali seems like the mother of all impositions. So that’s that. I did shop a lot, man. I’ve been doing that a lot lately and I need to stop. But then again shopping is the only thing that makes me feel a little bit excited and I know shopping a lot is a problem but dude, I could be doing crack instead. Crack would be cheaper, though. Anyway so there’s that.

As for the rest of the year, I’m going to the NH7 Weekender, only to see one of the best bands ever, – Cigarettes after sex. Then around 28th of December I’m taking a vacation again. A long one this time. On the beach, because I’m 90 and my body doesn’t do winters very well.

Also, I don’t care if this makes anyone uncomfortable, but when I’m on that vacation, I’m hoeing out. I AM DONE WITH THIS HIATUS, I CANNOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE. I have no intentions of waiting so long to have sex again that I revirginate. I won’t have to see their faces again or face awkward encounters or feel ashamed and that’s the beauty of the Caribbean.

I guess that was all that I wanted to rant about.

Okay, bye bye.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Changed 

“I love you.” 

Right now I’m not sure if I do anymore, but I say it anyway because it’s all that I am. I can’t remember what you look like very clearly, or even recall the sound of your voice. I’m not the same person you left and you’re not the same person I love. I love you in a way that you’re my whole world yet I would rather not feel like that ever again. 

But I know I love you because that’s the only reality I’ve known. I know I love you because I can’t love anything else. I know I love you because you’re my whole life, even if you’re not in it. 

I know that I love you. 

I find it comforting to hold on to this fading emotion because I know what it feels like and who isn’t a sucker for familiarity? 


*picture credit I’m not really sure about, it’s just a picture I found in my archives.  All credits go to the original photographer, not me. 

After

​Now that I’m ashes and bones, talk about me.

Tell everyone how I was your whole world and you loved me. Talk about the times I made you so happy you could die. Play my favorite songs and say how you never thought I’d leave. Hear them tell you the lies you wish to hear right now, how it’s not your fault and that you shouldn’t feel guilty. Let the people you hate comfort you in your time of need. Give the speech you wrote. Oh, say those words like you mean them. Like you really did love me. Like you never could live without me. Like you’ll miss me.

Flaunt the curve of your lips and hear the best applause you’ll ever get. Shed a tear or two, to make your words more believable as the people start to leave.

Go home and get as drunk as humanly possible on your fucking guilt. Place my ashes on the mantle so I’ll always be before your eyes. Write a letter to me with hands that can’t stand still and then burn it because that’s the only way I’ll ever know what you felt.

Cry and scream my name so hard you can never say anyone else’s name ever again. Oh, yes, beg me to come back to life. Fall on your knees in front of God and cry for mercy, like I did. Ask him to bring me back to you and feel him reject you, like I did. 

Lie to my God and tell Him you’ll change. Lie your fucking ass off, come one. Make your lies so convincing that you fool yourself. Lie, fucker, lie and scream so damn loud that The Devil shakes in hell.  Deny your crimes so hard that they almost turn true. 


Now you’re asleep and yet you can see me. You hear me and I’m so deep in your fucking head that you think you can smell the crook of my neck. You can reach for me, be so close and yet not enough to touch me. You understand me now, yeah. You can see it through me and you fucked me up. You can feel my pain and hear my pleas. That chill down the spine? Get used to it, because it’ll haunt you till the day you join me. 

I should know.

Your fate is that you’ll love me more than you ever did. You’ll miss me so hard it’ll burn through your gut. You’ll see me everywhere you go, in every conversation you ever have. In the pretty faces of those around you to every thought you ever have. I’ll be there.  To remind you what you did to someone who only ever loved you. 

But now that I’m dead, at least you love me.


I’m sorry 

This whole self esteem issue is driving me insane. I don’t know how I let the words of a mean-ass bitch cut through my skin. It had taken me better part of the last two years to be comfortable within my own skin. Not just me, I used to urge people to do the same, too. I still do, but now I feel like a hypocrite. 

So I wrote this “thing” to just get it out of my head because I really can’t keep it in any longer, I’ll go crazier. 

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I’m not skinny like the other girls you like so much. I’m sorry I’m not as beautiful as your last one. I’m sorry you find me funny to look at. I’m sorry you had to put up with catfish after you’d had caviar. I’m sorry for not being fairer. I’m sorry for not having the perfect face. I’m sorry for my stretch marks over which I had no control. I’m sorry for my skin reacting the way it was evolved to. I’m sorry for my nose, and I’m sorry you had to look at it. I’m sorry for not having a symmetrical body so it’s appearance could please you more. I’m sorry my butt is spotted with cellulite. I’m sorry my breasts aren’t as identical as you’d like it to be. I’m sorry the sight of me makes you cringe. 

I’m sorry, even know it’s not my fault. 

I’m sorry for it all. 

*Picture by Sanjana Dawani. Seriously, stop what you’re doing right now and check out her page on Instagram. 

Cut off

I’ve been having a rough time lately.

Issues that I’d thought I’d resolved have come back up to haunt me all over again. My self esteem is at an all time low ever since a girl decided to rip me apart one by one. It’s not about validation. I don’t need some dudes telling me I’m pretty and what not. Flattery is not an answer to anything. But whatever, there’s no solution to that problem.

Then there’s another problem that has been bugging me. My education. What the fuck am I going to do about that, man? I can’t be a lawyer. I’ll be the worst lawyer this world has ever seen and I’m not even exaggerating. I’m someone who cries when someone yells at me, how the fuck do you expect me to face another attorney in a courtroom? Also, every single time I sit down to study Constitutional Law, it makes me want to throw up. There was this chance that I could transfer somewhere from the 5th semester but my stupid university cancelled all exams until further notice. If I want a transfer it’ll have to be in 3rd semester, setting me back by a year again. I can’t keep losing years like this or I’ll be 30 and still doing my graduation.  I don’t even the backup plan that every girl has; to get married. Because let’s be real, I’m not even proper human material, let alone wife material. I have no choice but to make something of myself and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to happen if I keep wasting years like they’re seconds. If you ask me what I’m good at? Well, nothing really. I can read and watch an absurd amount but that’s about the end of my intellectual prowess. So you see, I’m fucked in all places all at once.  To quote a friend, “I feel like I’ve taken more loads than Sasha Grey.”

I don’t even have the solace of feeling like this is Karma getting back at me. I’ve done my time. Karma has had its due. We’re even. My only saving grace is the hope that the world will end before all this happens. Or I’ll die somehow, if not then I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

I tried traveling but even that didn’t work. All it did was leave me bankrupt for the rest of the month and gave me tan lines so sharp they could kill. It wasn’t all bad, though. I mean, yeah, hanging out by the ocean drinking cold beer is fun. Watching cute boys in the water without shirts is more fun. Smoking pot with some of  and trying to speak Portuguese is priceless. But what’s the point of any of it when you’re hundreds of miles away but you’re still thinking all the same things? 

I don’t go out a lot, either. Because I had an epiphany while I was off getting sunburned. I didn’t take my phone because it’s fucking useless. I took another one to click pictures and support my recent addiction to Boomerang. I didn’t tell anyone I was going because whenever I speak about something I’m going to do, it doesn’t happen.  It was being somewhat off the radar that I realized that not everyone I think is my friend, is actually my friend. Yeah, I know a lot of people but they’re not my friends. I realized they only ever called me when they needed something.  I don’t need anything from anyone other than their company. It sucked to realize that more than half the people only ever called me or remembered me when they needed something, and that they don’t actually care about me. I’m done calling people my friend when they’re actually not. They’re just the people that I know. I don’t have a problem being there for someone when they need me or helping them out with something. But I just expect them to be there for me, too.  That’s it. When I’m there for you at 4 in the morning, the least you can do is not ignore my texts. I’m done letting people walk all over me. I’m nice but I’m not fucking stupid.  It’s not even exaggerated expectation because there are a few people who call me even when they don’t need anything.

Radhika calls me just to tell me a joke or she just comes over wherever I am to simply hang out. Diksha calls me to tell me what all she did that day from waking up to going to pee. To be honest, they’re the only family I have. I don’t think expecting someone to just be there for me is too much. So since they don’t give a fuck then even I’ve decided not to. Like I said, I’m nice but not stupid. 

Don’t even get me started on boys. I’m just done with that altogether. I have enough issues without adding “boy” trouble to that.

Then there’s my dumb body which can’t run itself properly. I take vitamins, I take protein and I eat so much all the time. I still don’t gain weight. My face has become so ashy grey that I think it’s going to crumble if I go out in the wind. I have zero stamina to speak of. Then there are my ovaries who can’t behave themselves. It’s so fucking frustrating not having my period for almost a year now. Back in January I thought something happened but it was like only 2 days. The reports come up normal so I don’t know why is this happening. Am I pregnant? Am I dying? What’s happening down there, God? It was never my plan to have kids but it wasn’t in my plan to grow a mustache, either. Then there’s sleeping. I’ve been having so bizarre dreams that you wouldn’t believe.  So bizarre and so vivid that I’m not sure if it actually happened or not. I was jumping off a rock and into an ocean in one (Which isn’t possible because I can’t fucking swim) and in one I was having dinner with a family that I don’t think remembers me anymore. Then I keep waking up every few hours. So I’m seriously depressed, really anxious, malnourished and sleep deprived all at once.

 It sucks being me right now.

So you see, I’ve had a depressing month and I don’t think it’s getting better anytime soon. 

Mean

It’s been twenty years since I’ve come into this world. Sadly, I’ve been sensible for only the past two. Even when my actions made no sense, I don’t think I was ever someone who judged someone based on how they looked. I wasn’t that type of an asshole. Mainly because who the fuck am I to call anyone ugly or fat or whatever when I’m the same?

So when someone who knows absolutely nothing about me, started to talk shit about how I look and the way my body is, I lost it. It’s not like I haven’t heard how weird I look before. I agree with everything people say. My nose is weird. My skin is abysmal. My hair is worse. I KNOW. I know everything that is wrong with me but why the fuck do you need to repeat it over and over again? Even that’s fine when it’s all just a joke and everyone is making fun of everyone. It’s the comparison that hurts me. Specifically to someone who just brings out all my insecurities. 

There was this girl who just started talking shit about me. Mind you, this girl knew me for about twenty four hours. Then she started comparing me to another girl, whose name literally makes my heart drop to my stomach in an instant. First it was all a jest and even I was laughing but then she said something like: “God bless the man who has to see your face the first thing in the morning” and “That girl makes Niddhi look like a pig next to her” and I fucking cried. I mean this man she’s talking about doesn’t exist in my life yet.  It might’ve been a joke to her. That girl that she’s comparing me with isn’t even in my life anymore. And moreover, I know I look a little bit like a piggy.

But why hit right where it hurts? I mean I don’t go digging around other people’s insecurities then why the fuck are you doing this to me, man? Why are you being mean to me when I have done absolutely nothing to invite that kind of behavior? Why are you comparing me to someone in front of whom I will never have the genetic advantage? It’s not my fault I look the way I do. They didn’t ask my when my chromosomes were pairing up. They didn’t ask me what levels of melanin would I prefer on my skin. They didn’t ask me what kind of hair would I like. I was MADE this way. 

I even know that a dude will never ever choose me if his decision is solely based on the way I look. (To be completely honest, even if you put my personality in the mix, it wouldn’t help. Because who wants to listen to my dark humored puns and several fandoms all the time?) I know everything a person can hold against me. I’m everything a person doesn’t want in a human body.  How the fuck is it my fault that my skin is the dark or that my hair can’t behave itself. 

Why do we have to belittle someone just for the sake of being mean? I don’t understand what joy do people get in making someone feel so small and so bad? Why can’t we let people be?

There’s nothing funny or fun about bullying someone. It sucks, trust me. It makes you question everything from the way you look to the way you talk to the way you feel.

Please, just be a decent human being and don’t make fun of someone just for the sake of having a good time. All it does it create more mental issues. I don’t need more things to worry about, I have way more than enough. I don’t have relief in any aspect of my life. Why did you need to fuck it up even more?

So, please, for the love of all that you hold dear, do not make fun of someone’s insecurities.

It’s time

You deserve more

It’s a terrifying thing to loose touch with the one thing you want, I know. But sometimes it’s better to focus on growing rather than doing the same thing again and again that brings your progress down to square one. 

You deserve normalcy. 

You deserve all the cheesy things that you think are lame. 

You deserve more than what you’re getting and I hope you stand up for it.

It’s about time. 

It’s a rant

I’m suicidal.

Apparently there’s something wrong with that. But let’s be honest, who isn’t?  Who hasn’t at least once thought about ending their lives? Everyone is suicidal at some level or the other, I just happen to be at the pro version.

I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t like having to explain why I’m in a place where the future doesn’t exist for me. I don’t like to talk about coping mechanisms that I’ve adopted. This whole dying thing, I don’t talk about to anyone.

Believe it or not, a pot dealer gave me some great advice. Now that I think about it, he’s a pretty nice guy. So he told me that it’s better to write these feelings down. Not because they’ll help, but because after you die and people find these logs, they’ll feel awful for the rest of their lives. I like the sound of that. Not everyone, obviously. Just the ones who have driven me to the point of dying. Ironically, they’re the ones who are also responsible for me being alive.

Another idiot told me that if I go through with this, I should think about how bad my family will feel. Well, they better feel pretty damn bad. It’ll change them forever? Thank goodness. I don’t want my life to end in vain. I hold no love for my family. It died the day they told me that I had to become a lawyer, even if it took 10 years or even if it killed me. If you think I’m a monster for not loving my own mother then go ahead. I’m the worst creature to ever walk the Earth. If I had a kid who was already dying out of anxiety and stress, I wouldn’t drop the pressure on them to become something that they don’t want. I’ve had tough love my whole life. I’ll admit, it made me tough. But I’m no longer that strong. For once I’d like to be loved as a child should.

The worst part is, they know what I do. They know that I sliced my wrists open. They know I bled for a long, long time. They know that the reason I want to die. They know everything. Yet no one came to me to ask why were there bloodied clothes in the garbage. No one asked me why there were gashes on my wrists. No one asked, so I told no one. So when I die, I do want then to feel bad. Maybe they won’t do the same thing to my brother. Maybe he’ll benefit the most from my death.

I really thought that would be the day I’d end it. It didn’t take courage. All it took was a blade. I had a letter written out. Actually, three. One for my family. One for Diksha and one for Radhika. In them I wrote who gets my stuff.( For the record, no one gets my Louboutins. They go with me.)

It wasn’t God’s plan to make me die. I mean after an hour or so of bleeding you’d think the 5litres would run out. But apparently not. Fuck it, I didn’t even get dizzy. I only cried because on my laptop Netflix was playing S5 finale of Supernatural and it was a pretty sad scene. My poor Winchesters babies. (Yes, even when I thought I was dying it was Supernatural I was thinking about. Fuck you, too)

Needless to say, I didn’t die that day. I made a hell of a mess but I didn’t stop breathing. I’m still fucking alive, obviously.

Fuck, I didn’t mean to sound like someone who’s pathetic and needs help. I can still hold my own, thank you very much. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to listen to pot dealers, after all.

And I swear to The Hol Trinity that if someone tells me “You’re just 20 years old, you still have prospects,” or “You’re a kid and this is just a tantrum and you know nothing of real pain” I’ll throw a pan in their stupid face and then they’ll know what real pain is. Just because other people have it worse than me doesn’t mean I’m not relevant. I know everyone’s suffering. I know everyone feels like this. But I’m not everyone. I’m running on fumes here. If other people still have fires left, it’s because they’re made of stronger stuff than I am. Do not start preaching to me otherwise I’ll pull your guts out through your throat. (Fandom references all over.)

I’m still kinda sorta fine, because I have no other choice. I’m done trying to die because, I tried and it didn’t work. It’s not God’s will to put me out of my suffering just yet. My will wasn’t to make it to December 2016. But again, I’m just a human.

Maybe my lack of affection towards people is the reason I want to die. I mean I’m not completely out of touch with my human side. I still care about my family. I do what they say. I have friends. I help anyone who asks. I hold no grudges. I don’t hate anyone. But I don’t actually love anyone either. I don’t think I have it in me anymore to love another person. Be it my own blood or otherwise.

As for my coping mechanisms, it’s dark humour, cigarettes and Netflix. That’s it. I’m running on Internet and Smoke.

If there’s a light at the end if the tunnel, I don’t see it yet. And until I do, I’m not about to change a thing.

God, why?

See I don’t usually do this thing that I did, so know that when I did this, I put a lot of thought into it. 

I’m 20 years old, I’m not a kid or some poor naive girl someone took advantage of. No. I did this completely on my own, after putting days of thought into it. 

I did something that I can’t believe I did.

I kissed someone who I didn’t know very well at all. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done in my life. It sucked ass. It was horrible and all the while I was just concentrating on not throwing up. 

It was the first time in my life I went on a legit date, the kind I’ve only read about. The dude was nice and basically Adonis come again. I mean I didn’t have any high expectations, but I didn’t expect it to be disgusting. I’ve had my “fireworks” and I know it won’t happen again, but I could at least expect it to not suck. 

The worst part is that the there was nothing wrong with the guy himself. He didn’t do anything wrong. My stupid mind fucked everything up. 

I thought I was ready to do this crap again. I thought I’d made ny peace with everything but apparently not. I am far from ready to move on. Really far. Like million miles away kind of far. 

It was so embarrassing on so many levels. I had to get out of there and it was basically the most humiliated I’ve ever been. Why, Jesus, why?! 

I really don’t know how long I can keep this up. There has to come a point when I have to stop being pathetic. I don’t like being alone, okay? I don’t want to be one if those women who lead a loveless life and die with dogs. I don’t need anyone but I don’t do so well one. 

Maybe I’ll try again later. After scrubbing myself with Holy Water, that is.