Tag Archives: relationships


Don’t ask me if I am doing good. I am never good. I am always torn. I am still a half dangling cigarette waiting to burn out. I always carry a tiny portion of sadness in my back pocket. I am feeling a whole lot of things together to have space for something as insignificant as being good.

If you ask about my feelings, expect an honest answer. If you want to get to know me, then expect to drown. If you want me to love you, then expect the intensity to burn down your guts.

I don’t do things halfway. I don’t have the patience for your games. If you want to be around then at some point, I will be too much. I will either love too much or be too melancholic or be too caring or be too dramatic.

I hope I don’t scare you away. I don’t mean to, but I won’t apologize for being myself. But I will try everything I know to be there for you. I will try to love you in all possible ways.

I don’t have many redeemable qualities, but I know how to stay. Or let’s say, I don’t know how to leave.

Will you walk with me?

~Hadik Nagar



My ex-husband said that in order to be with me he had to continue tearing down walls and slaying dragons. Tasks that he thought once he conquered my world would be over and done with. Which reminds me of something my only brother once told me. That in order to be close to me one has to be upright and noble or otherwise one would never even glimpse a portion of my shadow. I am/was not aware that I’m doing these things they are accusing me of. For me, I’m just being me. Nothing more nothing less.

Yes, I have my requirements. Haven’t we all? 

Money status looks education background and upbringing matters but they are not important and not the way to impress me. 

True I would never consider having to do with someone who is attached married or taken but only because I don’t want to hurt the feelings of others.

I admit I will never never have a relationship let alone marry someone who is widowed divorced or separated. In my eyes, if two people terminated their union it means it takes two to tango, it will never be the fault of just one party, it means both of them did something terribly wrong. I didn’t escape one hell only to land in another. Carrying my own emotional baggage is heavy enough, I don’t want to be with someone who is equally if not more laden. No thank you. Only single needs apply.

Also true that I prefer non-drinker non-smoker than those who do. My ex- smokes, and drinks (he doesn’t have any limit in these areas and all fatal consequences don’t scare him away from his habits) in our twenty years of marriage, I didn’t kiss him with open mouth. Not even once. 

I rather be with someone who can carry a decent conversation and can follow me on any topic than anyone who looks like Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt (both I dislike) I believe in romancing the brain first before moving further anywhere else. I like someone who can teach and introduce me to new things and can lead and propel me to new horizons. I also insist that he could swim competitively or at least better than me. You never know when he might necessarily save me from drowning. With me, those situations are not far off.

I can list a lot of things more but these will do for now. They are my main requirements. Everything that falls outside these categories is negotiable. Except gambling. No gambling with money in my neighborhood. And tattoos. No tattoos either. Not even itchy bitsy teeny one. Piercing too. Lots of materials to write on and do your own art. I draw a line on using bodies as a substitute for canvas. 

I guess I will leave it here or otherwise we are in for a long read. See you next time?


The Two Of Us

I wonder what Adam told Eve after
he realized that she bit into the apple,
and now their entire world will tumble.
And God will do what Gods do and curse
them to burn in the eternal fire and abandon
them from the home they built.
And I see the guilt in Eve’s eyes, and she
looks at Adam and realizes that it’s over.
Just yesterday, they ran around, naked,
in the Garden of Eden, and laughed about insignificant
things, and spoke without
ever saying anything. But now, they know
about right and wrong, and nothing makes
sense anymore because that’s what
happens when the mist disappears. That’s
what happens when we uncover whatever gory
details hid beneath our veils.
You, too, will realize one day that we’re
two terrible people who are trying to be good.
But it won’t work because the world
will keep scaring us and we will
keep scratching each other out of fear.
I can see Adam running away from Eve, hiding
so that she doesn’t see him. And I can imagine
you treating me like a goddamn stranger.
We ate the apple, and the Gods are pissed.
So, they let us create something.
Only to watch as we destroy it.
-the honest musing via Facebook

For Love

Van Gogh gave his severed ear to a
prostitute, and decades later a woman
married the Berlin Wall because she
got too tired of leaving men. A couple
somewhere got surgery to look identical,
and in Florida, a man dug out his dead lover’s
body from the grave. But the prostitute flung
the ear in disgust, and the wall crumbled.
The surgery reminded her too much of his flaws,
and the corpse stank while it lay on the bed.
When I first met you, we talked about
how Sylvia Plath placed her head in the oven.
You laughed and said people do terrible
things when they think it’s for love.
And it reminds me of every time
I scraped wounds because it felt like intimacy.
How I squeezed tears out of those big, pale
eyes and called it vulnerability. When Antony died,
Cleopatra kept a snake on her chest and waited
for its bite. Maybe that’s how it ends: the venom
passing through the veins with slow movements,
dissolving everything with pleasure. Maybe that’s
how it should be: I wonder if the prostitute ever
realized that Van Gogh loved her.

~honest musing via Facebook


Living With C-PTSD Following An Abusive Relationship

For many years I was in an extremely destructive relationship with someone who has NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) and during that time I was regularly subjected to a variety of emotional, mental and physical abuse.

Every day I walked on eggshells, living in fear of saying or doing something that might trigger an aggressive response.

Many people might wonder why I, or anyone else, would remain in this kind of environment, but by the time I fully recognized that I was in extreme danger, I was already badly emotionally and mentally weakened and debilitated.

I was living in terror waiting to be attacked at any moment and yet I did not feel as though I had the strength or courage to remove myself from it.

Abuse doesn’t always happen overtly and it isn’t always easy to recognize. Often it is a covert, insidious, invisible drip that slowly poisons the victim’s mind so they don’t trust their own judgment, is unable to make life-changing decisions and feels as though they don’t have the coping skills necessary to get help or leave.

It took me a long time, and everything I had, to pull myself from the bottom of the deep dark hell I existed in and to get myself to a place of safety.

By the time I walked away, I thought that the nightmare was over. But in so many other ways, it had only just begun.

The terrors of the taunts, torture, and torment that had become my normality didn’t subside. They remained alive and relieved themselves in the form of intrusive, regular flashbacks.

Many months after I had left the relationship I discovered that I was suffering from C-PTSD, (Complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.) C-PTSD is a result of persistent psychological trauma in an environment where the victim believes they are powerless and that there is no escape.

C-PTSD is slightly different than PTSD, which is brought on by experiencing one solitary, traumatic incident, or it can develop due to an accumulation of incidents. Although both C-PTSD and PTSD both developed from my experiences, I identify more with C-PTSD, as it was the effects of the prolonged exposure to repetitive and chronic trauma that I felt I couldn’t escape from that affected me the most.

For many months after leaving the relationship I struggled to sleep at night, and when I did I often woke trembling after experiencing terrifying reoccurring dreams. On many occasions when I did eventually sleep I would sleep solidly for at least 24 hours, in such deep slumber that I would struggle to wake from it and when I did I would feel fatigued, spaced out and as though I was numbly sleep-walking through the day.

I was easily startled and panicked at the slightest sudden movement or loud noise.

I was ultra-sensitive, on edge and highly alert most of the time, which I believe was my mind’s way of forming some sort of self-protection to keep me aware so that I avoided similar potentially dangerous situations.

At the mention of certain words, names or places I felt nauseous and dizzy and would become extremely distressed. A painful tight knot developed in my stomach every time something occurred to remind me of the trauma.

I still have difficulty remembering large phases of my life, and for a long time I struggled to stay focused, and my concentration abilities were very poor.

I would get upset easily, especially if I was in a tense environment. I had constant anxiety and was regularly in fight-or-flight mode.

I didn’t eat properly. I had no motivation and suicidal thoughts regularly flooded my mind.

I had lost my spark.

One aspect of the aftermath of the relationship that affected me most was the daily gaslighting that I endured. This left me finding it difficult to believe anything people would tell me, and I analyzed, questioned and dissected everything.

Forming new relationships, whether friendships or romantic, was almost impossible as I struggled to trust people’s intentions and felt scared of possible underlying, hidden motives and agendas for their words or actions.

I dissociated from most of what I had been through and pretended, even to myself, that the abuse wasn’t as serious as it was. Partly because I felt ashamed that I had not left sooner and also because I wanted to defend and protect the person I was involved with, as I still cared for him. Therefore, I rarely mentioned the relationship to anyone and froze and shut down through stress (sometimes resulting in a meltdown) if anyone tried to talk to me about it.

It got to the stage where I withdrew completely as leaving the house became overwhelming and a major ordeal because I wouldn’t/couldn’t open up and connect and I felt terrified of everything and everyone.

One thing that became apparent and harrowing was that although I had gained enough strength to walk away and I felt empowered by the decision knowing that it was the right choice for my emotional, mental and physical health, I was suppressing all my emotions and feelings and I was far from okay on the inside.

There were many rollercoaster emotions trapped inside me and trying to ignore and contain them was doing more harm than good. In many ways, the ending of the relationship had signaled closure to one phase of my life and had opened up a new chapter that was going to take a little time to get used to.

It appeared that while I was in the relationship I had become so used to enduring a wide variety of narcissistic behaviors that they had almost become normal and acceptable. Stepping away from all that I had known felt like I had walked from one planet and onto another and I hadn’t got a clue how to navigate it on my own or how to relate to anyone on it.

I soon realized that unless I started to focus on healing myself, I would remain a victim of my previous circumstances as the build-up of emotional injuries, wounds, and scars needed urgent attention. Otherwise, they would seep out and silently destroy sections of my life without me being aware that the past was still controlling me.

It was up to me to rebuild my strength and confidence, otherwise, I would end up alienating myself and causing further damage.

I had a lot of inner healing work and restructuring to do and trying to convince myself that just because I had left the relationship everything would be okay, was not going to be enough.

The first and most significant step I took was admitting and fully accepting that the carnage I had experienced was real and had a huge impact on my emotional and mental wellbeing.

I had been surviving by a fragile thread in a domestic war zone and for far too long I had been intimidated, manipulated, lied to and threatened, amongst many other toxic and dysfunctional behaviors. The whole relationship had been an illusion and resulted in me having serious trust issues as well as losing the will to live. I not only struggled to trust other people, but I also realized I had no faith at all in my own intuition, perception or judgment.

Finally, I gave myself permission to take as long as I needed to heal, even if it meant I would spend the rest of my life slowly putting the pieces of my life back together. I came to terms with the fact that there is no timescale for healing and there was no hurry.

I allowed myself to grieve the relationship and the loss of the person I had separated from. This was extremely difficult to do as I had so many mixed emotions due to the scale of the abuse. For a long time, I denied my grief, as it was complex to come to terms with how I could miss someone who had been responsible for vicious behavior towards me.

One of the hardest parts to dealing with this grief was feeling as though I could not talk openly to anyone, as I believed no one would understand how I could remain in such an abusive relationship and still miss many aspects of that person and the life I had with them.

The reason getting over this type of relationship can be so difficult is that many narcissists display both “Jekyll and Hyde” type characteristics, one minute appearing extremely loving and affectionate and the next crippling, cruel and cunning.

It is not easy to explain that I deeply loved and badly missed one side of the person I was involved with, and disliked, feared and never wanted to hear his name mentioned at the same time. Even thinking about this can make one feel a little crazy as it does not feel natural to love and hate the same person.

One essential step toward healing from narcissistic abuse, I believe, is finding someone to really confide in and who doesn’t judge or question anything that is said. Being free to talk openly and comfortably without having to over-explain is vital to start putting the accumulation of experiences into some sort of context. If there isn’t a friend on hand, it is worth taking time to seek out a good counselor with an understanding of C-PTSD deriving from abusive relationships.

The most important thing that helped me to heal was focusing more on healing and rebuilding myself. Although I took time out to research and gain knowledge and understanding of the type of abuse I had been subjected to, I spent far more of my time indulging myself in whatever felt good for my soul.

Slowly and surely I rebuilt myself, formed new friendships, learned to trust people and forgave all of the past. There are still days that it haunts me, but there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel and although it can be difficult to believe that when you start walking through it, as soon as you take the first steps of acceptance the path ahead begins to become clear.

Healing comes by taking one small step at a time, with gentle, loving care and without hurry.

~ Elephant Journal via Alex Myles

Sadly it happened to me. It took me twenty years to wake up and gather all the courage I could muster to walk out and leave for good. Though not every instance of the story above is similar to mine -some of them are better a lot is worse- the experience is similar though different in context. I still suffering from the consequences of my bitter past. I still lock the door and sleep with a big knife under my pillow. I still have nightmares and trust issues and still blame myself for everything. I have no hope anymore that it will get better in time. I am too old and learned to live with the traumas. But who knows… maybe miracles do exist. I’d like to experience a day without me being in a fight or flight mode. I wonder how it is to feel safe. Normal and safe. – Bebong 

Injured woman leaning sadly on wooden wall

Garbage Bin

This somehow reminds me of a blog post I wrote a while back. A true to life tale I called  A Valentine Story.

I don’t know about intimacy, but we knew how to fuck. So, we hardly ever talked afterward. I cracked a few jokes, did some small talk, and she responded with laughter and nods. Then she got dressed, kissed my forehead, and left.

This went on for months. I didn’t know how she got that scar on her thighs, but I knew she liked it when I touched there. She didn’t know why I’ve so many acne on my back, but she was always careful not to scratch them, even by chance.

On some days, she cried. For at least 20 minutes. I never asked why, and she never bothered to tell from ahead. But I would hold her as she sobbed – stroking her hair, caressing her earlobe.

Her name was Anamika. We met through an online dating app, and she straight ahead told me she’s just looking for sex. “I don’t care about your issues, and you shouldn’t care about mine,” she said, right after we slept together for the first time.

Anamika had a tattoo of a garbage bin on her lower back. Sometimes, when she was asleep – snoring lightly – I touched it and wondered why she got inked.

Every once in a while, she had bruises on her neck, her chest, even her back (right above the tattoo, sometimes.) But I wasn’t allowed to ask her about it. That was our deal.

So, we quietly wept with each other. Two strangers seeking refuge in loud moans, hoping to drown everything else.

One day, she didn’t turn up. And then the next week too. Then an entire month. Her phone was unavailable, and I had no other way to get in touch with her. For all I know, Anamika wasn’t even her real name.

I still don’t know what happened to her. Maybe, she got bored. Maybe, she moved towns. Maybe, she died. I can’t say.

But I’ll remember her, and the little bin on her lower back. I don’t know anything about love. But Anamika and I knew how to fuck.

~Hardik Nagar The Honest Musing via Facebook



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 who 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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“No varnish can hide the grain of the wood; and that the more varnish you put on, the more the grain will express itself.” ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Or you can also say: put lipstick on a pig, put rouge on the corpse, making a purse out of a swine’s ear, putting a racing stripe on a … am I allowed to say it here? Probably not. Better leave it at that.

I think basically what Dickens wanted to say is: you can’t hide someone’s true nature. And I believe him. One’s genetic makeup is very hard to alter. Sure, surroundings, upbringing, experience and all those things could have an effect on someone’s innate nature but only on the surface, it cannot change what lies beneath. One’s inner essential nature will always come through sooner or later.

I’m not saying someone can be born a saint or evil and who can say what makes those people act a certain way. A basically good person can commit a grave offense out of desperation, necessity, passion, anger or whatever valid for that moment reason she or he might have but it doesn’t make them a bad human being automatically. You can almost see the genetic makeup of a person by his actions, the nature of their crimes, and how they react to a certain situation. Unplanned circumstances always provoke spontaneous reactions. And that’s when you can see how people truly are, by the way they handle crisis and surprises.

I remember breaking up with someone after accidentally observing his behavior towards others. It was a simple occurrence. We were aboard a public vehicle and the driver stopped to let an elderly passenger in. The person had a difficulty ascending the steps and my then boyfriend was sitting by the door. He could have easily extended his hand and help but he never did nor offered his seat to that person who was clearly having troubles to remain standing during that treacherous ride because of his advanced age. In the end, I gave up my place so the person could sit.

What happened was a revelation to me. My boyfriend was a gentleman. Caring, solicitous, respectful and sweet. To me he was. But to others, he could not care less. And that is something I cannot possibly accept. God knows what he gonna do later in the relationship when the cloak and dagger aspect of courtship is over. I decided I’ve seen enough and dropped him just like that. I believe I made the right decision.

What about you? Do you think I made the right decision?

I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject of genetic makeup in general if you care to impart your knowledge. Nothing too fancy or complicated, just your own truth and beliefs. It is always nice to hear other people’s input. I have learned so much that way.


If You Want Me Come And Get Me

“If a man wants you, he will come and get you.” ~ Unknown

This time something feels different.

The storyline began long ago—but we both have a history of not finishing what we started.

This time—I’m hoping you’ll take the chance to run your fingertips over every one of my soft pages, reading every single word—even those said in between the sweet subtext of refuge.

Because this time, for you, I am an open book.

So baby, if you want me—come and get me. 

Come and surge through my door—because this time you know I’m ready for you.

Not just for the kisses that intoxicate us like the taste of electrifying absinth, but for the way you feel when we are together.

And while I may not know all the answers, something tells me, I inspire something different in you.

I am not professing to know the intricacies of your mind or heart—for one thing I’ve learned is, when you do want me to know something, I will.

And this time, I have no desire to rush you, or the endless amounts of time we could spend passionately working through the various endings to a love story, that we didn’t think we were ever going to read again.

I trust you enough to lead me.

Because however farfetched or unlikely it seems, I need to be lead at times and, for some reason, you take the reins like no one else.

That’s why this time, I’m leaving it up to you.

I think you know where I stand, and though I don’t have any conclusions about how this story will end, I do know the questions that I want to ask this time.

So, even though I want you, I’m not going to chase you.

If and when you decide that you want me, truly see what can grow in the most unlikely of places, then I trust you enough to choose the timing.

Although I can be a force to be reckoned with, I am more than that when I am with you.

And at one point I quaked in that role and fought against it, but now, it’s the pleasure of my simple undoing.

It is because of my strength that I need someone—yes, I said need—it is another thing I’ve learned this go around.

I do need someone.

I need a man, at times, to put me in my sweet place—not because I need to be told what to do, but because I need a man who is strong enough to know that I don’t really want to be so formidable.

I have lost my desire to lead.

Not that I will ever take a supporting role in my own life, but I also know that I don’t need to be in the starring role to make a difference in this world.

Because one thing I’ve learned is that I shine just as bright when I am quiet, with tears streaming paths down my soft cheeks. I don’t need to be the loudest, I can simply be myself and that is enough.

And though that may change on a daily basis—some days I may still roar, on most occasions I will simply just purr.

So, baby if you want me—come and get me.

Because I am a ripe peach, waiting for your teeth to sink into me, letting the sweet juices flow down your chin.

I am softness and understanding, just within your reach.

My eyes will tell you every sweet and bitter honesty—even if you don’t always wish to hear it.

Because this time, I’m not trying to be someone who I think you would want—I’m simply being myself.

While I may be filled with an endless array of contradictions, this is who I really am.

And I know myself well enough to know that anyone who truly wants me will come and get me.

And it won’t matter if a man knows all the answers, I am a question he can’t stop trying to figure out.

What may stand in the way or how ridiculous it may all seem, won’t matter to him.

If a man truly wants me, he won’t let anything stand in the way.

And, maybe you don’t really want me—maybe this could be all a game, one that I simply didn’t learn my lesson from before.

Maybe it is all about sex.

But, maybe it’s not—I wish to be judged for who I am now and not the crazy, train wreck of a woman who couldn’t look herself in the mirror, then I have to trust in the man you have become too.

I have no choice but to trust your words and the language of your eyes and hands.

So this time, baby, if you do want me—all you have to do is come and get me.

~Relephant Via Kate Rose



“If I could reach for something brilliant, that would be the home which been denied to me and the presence of the peace I’ve never known.”

I put this phrase on the right sidebar of my homepage. I yada-yada-ya countless times about my roots being pulled out before they can even have a chance to settle and get hold and never having a contingency to grow and flourish in a familiar soil. I teared up when I heard someone on TV said: “A tree without roots is just a piece of wood.” Why? Because the subject of home and family are two major sensitive issues for me. Always been always will be.

I have experienced countless betrayal by blood and like I already said before, that is the most painful deception somebody could experience in a lifetime. The wounds never heal and continue bleeding. It is not easy to get over it. It hurts.

As you probably have already guessed by now, I am living on a foreign soil. I arrived here 30 years ago and I’m still here. Let’s face it, skin colour matters no matter what others say and want to believe. I can never be white and that brings circumstances. I will not bore you with the details. Besides, this post is not about that topic. It’s about hanging in a limbo, not here nor there. I don’t feel at home in my own country, I live here for too long I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t understand a lot of things and at times I find that their views in life are narrow and limited and like here people are prejudiced and judgmental. They can’t look beyond their beliefs and fixed ideas. I feel like a stranger in my own country. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I expect too much. Forgetting that cultures will always clash. But then again, what happened to open minds? I told you, I expect too much.

When I was still living with my ex-husband I had a constant feeling of being in a transit. I knew I had a final destination but where? Other times I felt that I was having a nightmare (and really it was) and going to wake up eventually but when? I did manage to escape but it doesn’t  mean I found a home. I’m still searching for it. In the process, I lost my children. They become estranged from me. The last time I have spoken to my daughter was almost two years ago. Again, it hurts. I am still trying to reconcile with the fact.

I often wonder if I will ever find a place I truly belong. A home which I can call my own and feel secure. Maybe what they say is true. That home is not a place but like hell is a state of mind. I don’t know.