I Am Not The Same Girl Who Used To Let People Take Advantage Of Her.

I am not the same girl who used to do everything for people who failed to put in effort themselves. The girl who used to get excited when someone gave her the smallest amount of affection because she took whatever she could get.

I am not the same girl I was when I was younger. She was innocent. Naive. Overly trusting. She saw the best in people because she didn’t know what they were capable of doing yet. She didn’t understand how hard a heart could break.

But now, I am more experienced. I have been hurt before. I have been lied to, led on, and betrayed. I can no longer call myself an optimist because I have seen the darkest parts of people I once trusted.

I should be bitter about all of the shit I’ve been through, but honestly, I consider it a good thing. My worst days have helped shaped me into someone different. Someone strong.

I am not a pushover anymore. I am not going to allow anyone to treat me as a backup plan. I am not going to allow anyone to string me along without making a commitment. I am not going to lower my standards because I happen to have feelings for someone who clearly doesn’t feel the same way.

I am not going to give out third and fourth chances anymore. I am not going to answer someone’s text if it took them three days to respond to mine. I am not going to rearrange my schedule to see someone if they keep canceling and rescheduling. I am not going to use all of my energy to make someone else happy while neglecting my own happiness.

I am not going to let other people take advantage of me anymore. I am not going to help out a friend if my schedule is packed and the extra activity would push me over the edge. I am not going to kiss someone if I don’t feel a spark, just because they bought me a drink at the bar. I am not going to feel like I am obligated to do something for someone else when I have a choice.

I am not the same girl who used to keep quiet, who used to go with the flow, who used to let people take advantage of her kindness. I am not the same girl who used to think so little of herself and so highly of everyone else.

Some people might say that I am not as nice anymore. Some people might have liked me better before because back then, I let them get away with murder. I let them walk all over me.
But I am happy with who I am now because I have finally realized my worth. I have finally raised my standards to where they should have been all along. I have finally decided that I deserve more than what some people are willing to give me and that it is okay to walk away when I’m not getting enough.

-Holly Riordan



When it comes to almost, nothing beats the story of you and me and what could have been. You’re a wonderful person. I wish I could share your interest but I’m a weirdo, not a psycho so, there you go. 

For those who are interested to know more, you can read our serial story here, here and here. Yes, I wrote about it three times. I can’t do it all over again. Too complicated to summarize. The ones I wrote are abridged versions already. Maybe someday I will compress them once more into one denser copy. But for now, they will remain as they are. Take a look. 






Don’t Settle For A Love That Doesn’t Rock Your World

“Love is not warm and fuzzy or sweet and sticky. Real love is tough as nails. It’s having your heart ripped out, putting it back together, and the next day offering it back to the same world that just tore it up.” ~ Glennon Doyle Melton

Don’t fall for my bullsh*t line when I tell you that I just can’t find a good guy.

It’s a lie I allow to fall from my lips to cover up the fact that I’ve found many.

So many good guys out there have found their way up the chipped, concrete stairs leading to the somewhat splintered wooden door of my patched-up heart.

They’ve bravely knocked and asked to come in, undeterred by the non-existence of a cheery welcome mat out front or the fact that I like to keep the door tightly locked because I’m still afraid someone might find their way in.

I like to playfully joke with a twinkle in my eye, “There’s no point in coming in here, boys, because I know you’re going to leave anyway!” I breathe it out with a light-hearted laugh, the wave of my hand a last-ditch effort to convince them it’s totally okay with me because I wouldn’t really want them to stay too long anyway.

I may even tell you that I don’t allow them in because, just by sizing them up with my guarded hazel eyes, I can tell that they wouldn’t rock my world—and I’m a strong and independent woman who knows what I’m looking for so I’m not gonna settle for any ol’ love.

Nope, not me…I won’t settle for anything less than a total shake-up of my world.

This is a lie. You know that right?

The truth is, I’m not at all afraid that these men won’t rock my world. In fact, I’m fairly certain I let a few go who most certainly would have shaken the boots off my trembling legs.

The truth is, I’m afraid that I won’t rock theirs.

And I don’t want a man to settle for me when I can’t rock their world.

I think we all deserve a love like this. One that leaves us sleepless when we lay in bed at night thinking about that person—the one who leaves us breathless, our heart excitedly pounding in our chest when we watch them walking toward us, anticipating the feel of their lips meeting ours. One who stokes our sexual fire and creates a deep and penetrating longing in our bellies counting the hours until the next time we can make love.

We often settle for much less. We settle for sleepless nights because the one we’re with hasn’t returned our calls or texted us back and we’re wondering where they are or who they’re with.

We can’t catch our breath because we’re filled with anxiety that we may not be the only one in their life, but we’re too afraid to ask.

We feel that sexual fire within us, but the longing in our bellies is because our sexual needs are not being met and we’re too scared to ask for what we want or express what we need.

We deserve a love better than this.

One that leaves us wanting more of the person, not because they aren’t enough, but because being in their presence makes us feel so damn good, we want that feeling every second we can have it.

And if we know we can’t give someone the very same experience, we need to walk away. Until we know we can.

So don’t settle for any old love that’s in your life now and not making you happy. And don’t allow yourself to be led into one if you know you’re just not ready.

Wait. Just wait.

Be patient and listen to your soul—the part of you that knows with absolute certainty that this love has potential. That this love is the kind that is going to shake you up, tear you open and rock your world.

Then hold on for the ride of your life.

~Author: Dina Strada

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Connecting the dots

When I opened the nearest book which happened to be Villette by Charlotte Brontë; this paragraph on page 82 was the first that caught my eyes. Luckily enough it was the third full sentence on the page, which was required for this challenge. It says:  

“Not that true contentment dignified this infatuated resignation: my work had neither charm for my taste, nor hold on my interest, but it seemed to me a great thing to be without heavy anxiety, and relieved from intimate trial: the negation of severe suffering was the nearest approach to happiness I expected to know. Besides, I seemed to hold two lives- the life of thought and that of reality; and provided the former was nourished with a sufficiency of the strange necromantic joys of fancy, the privileges of the latter might remain limited to daily bread, hourly work, and a roof of shelter.”

And I thought: how many of us are in this situation? How many are living inadventurous lives, unstirred by impulses of practical ambition? Many, I guess.

We open dream of other vocation, different lives; in some cases, different family and spouses. But not so many are brave enough to chase our dreams for the fear of unknown. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?

But we all envy the Steve Jobs and Richard Branson of this world who dared to defy the norm and go their own way. I know that the road to success isn’t paved with gold and us writers cannot be all J.K. Rowling, and there are those priorities and duties towards what we hold dear, but mostly what stopping us is fear.  Fear of failing, of not making it and finding that we burn the bridges in the process and we cannot go back to what it was. Fear of creating mayhem to otherwise smooth sailing lives we have. Fear of creating troubles that will dig us deeper into the abyss of more uncertainties and financial difficulties. And I understand all these because I am one of you.

I am one of those many who let me chained to the pillar of mediocre, boring, smooth sailing secure (as secure as you can get in this life) existence (and to quote Ms. Brontë directly) with my usual base habit of cowardice I shrink into my sloth-like a snail into a shell, and alleged incapacity and impracticability as a pretext to escape action.

Is it too late to escape? To change course? To throw overboard all that I have worked for all these years just to chase a fantasy? My father will turn in his grave. He was an avid supporter of secure income and smooth sailing lives. Ironically he never experienced such because he dared to passed away before I could realize everything he envisioned me doing when he married me off to someone I despise.  

All water under the bridge now. Better to move on than to linger in the distant past. Perhaps one of these days I will have the courage to break free and chase those fantasy of mine so, I will not lie there in my death bed regretting all the things I never dare to do…

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… and protect your individuality, your uniqueness, your originality, your core. Don’t be a copy of the majority, don’t follow the herd. Be your own person, dare to be different. Remember what Steve Jobs said?

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others‘ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.

But being you doesn’t mean you have to be different for the sake of being different, to stand out so people would notice, for your own ego, for attention, for adoration. Don’t be a nuisance. Do it because that’s who you are. And while you’re at it, respect others’ individuality too. Try to understand them, see where they are coming from and even if you can’t, let them be themselves as long as it is not harming your existence. Give them freedom you would give yourself to express their emotions and thoughts through the medium of their own individual choices. See the big picture. Don’t be prejudiced and judgmental. Remember the golden rule and try to live by it.

Do not do unto others what you don t want others do unto you.

Practice this too whenever you can:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change; 
courage to change the things I can; 
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time; 
enjoying one moment at a time; 
accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; 
taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it; 
trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will; 
that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
forever in the next. 

I know. Easier said than done but you can at least try.


A Fabulous Wonderful Christmas And A Sparkling New Year

Let the new year roar,
With Glitters and twinkles …
Sing, jump and enjoy,
Do not choose one, do it all

Make a party every day,
Seize every moment
Dance like the stars in heaven,
With all the nice people you meet

Just keep on dancing
In a wonderful new year
Sometimes on your own,
But more often with each other

My wishes to all of you.
Are love and attention
When you need it but
Most of all when you less expect it …

Happiness, joy
And making fun
All you want and can,
In your own special way …

Lights, lots of lights,
Shine with each other
And that they let you sparkle,
Now and in the coming new year!



At long last...

After sitting in a shoe box inside the closet with four others for almost twenty years, I finally have the courage to publish the second installment in a pentalogy of autobiographical stories about a need and desire so strong it transcends time and death. Each book in this series can stand alone and can be read in any order.

ask yourself:

What are you prepared to give up for freedom? How far are you willing to go to follow your heart’s desire?  Would you put everything on the line for something that cannot last? Do you have enough courage to challenge the status quo and go against the flow even if it is for the wrong reasons? How important is a family for you? Are you willing to sacrifice them for a moment of madness, for a fleeting glimpse of what could have been?

This story will question everything you believe in and more. 

As usual, I put an image widget on the right sidebar of my homepage. You can click it if you wish and it will bring you to my author page where you can sample and purchase the book if desired. I copy the link here as well for easy access. Until next time… 


Daily Prompt: Calling


I surely can relate to this:

I’m homesick for a home that hasn’t yet been built
That has no foundation
Except for the tears that I’ve spilled
A home where my dreams start to breathe
And my wild things can dance
And twirl in the wind
And believe in romance
My heart aches for a place that’s been only a whisper
A thought I haven’t had but can clearly remember…

— Deanne Tiffany

How about you?



I grew up with meager everything. We didn’t even own a house. We didn’t have a television set and there were no neighbours to go to to have some interaction. The only two gadgets my father had were both essentials to our living; a transistor radio to track the ever-changing weather and a flashlight he used to patrol the fishpond in the night. 

We didn’t own a table and chairs aside from what my father fashioned himself from bits and pieces of wood he could find lying around. Beds, closets, cabinets, sofas were unknown to us. We had plastic plates and cups, few cutleries, a couple of pots and one pan. Nothing we could not bundle and take in a moment notice which usually the case. 

Our pillows were made by my mother from cotton-like fluff obtained from Kapok tree seed pods we gathered wherever we could find them. We, siblings, shared two blankets between the six of us and slept under one mosquito net. No wonder I have insomnia.

I saw and held a telephone for the first time when I was fifteen. I finally owned a wristwatch when I was 17 (almost eighteen) and by that time, I was already married to my ex and could afford a little bit more than before. That was when the bad dreams turned into full-blown nightmares…