I give up on you.

I give up on waiting for a reply to a message i sent a week ago.

I give up on having expectations because you never make an effort to meet any of them.

I give up on putting energy and thought into you when i dont get it back.

I give up on caring about you. And i say care, because love is too strong a word. What we had was puppy love and i see that now. It wasnt real. It was all in my head.

I give up on caring about your oppinion of me.

I give up on you.

Because youre not worth the time and effort.


I think my brain is broken. Its only been a short while since i last saw you but it feels like forever. I cant remember what it feels like when youre touching me. I cant recall how it felt when you pressed me up against my bedroom wall and held me there, teasingly. I should be able to bring the sensation to the forefront of my mind, but it slips from my grasp every time. I just want to feel your body pressed up against mine from head, to chest, to hip, to thigh, to toe. If only so i can ingrain that feeling in my memory. So i’ll never forget it again. I feel like everyday i forget something else important. I can feel the finer details of my life slipping away like grains of sand. Im struggling to remember things. Im struggling.

Im convinced you’re not real again. That i made you up. Youre a figment of my imagination. Its so like me to make you so unattainable.


New things

Can you be excited and terrified at the same time? Have you ever wanted to try something but at the same time worry that you wont like it as much as you think you will? I suppose thats why safe words were invented. I suppose thats why you try it in the first place; to see if you like it. Im scared. But i also have butterflies in my tummy every time i think of his hands creating a galaxy of brusies on my body. The thought of being inflicted with such pain ignites an excitement inside me that ive only ever felt two times before. Once when i decided to have sex for the very first time. The nerves coursed through my body like caffeine, making my hands shake and my body tense. But it also made me jumpy and paranoid, like every single person i encountered knew my secret. Like i was doing something so inherently wrong and dirty. The second time was when i decided to kill myself. The satisfaction of actually having a plan and knowing that it was all going to be over soon created an unstable sense of excitement inside me that was like no other feeling. It was a dangerous high. One that i didnt think i was capable of reaching and hope i never do again. I have been close many times. I have an addictive personality. So knowing the pleasure of such excitements is a dangerous game. Sometimes i fall into a mood where my will is weak and i binge. On food, on cigarettes, on alcohol, on orgams and pain. My mentality is masocistic. I seek out my weaknesses because i enjoy the torment and the suffering. I once told a friend that i was going to go out and get my heart broken because i had nothing better to do. I feel as i am a burden on those closest to me, because i rely on them to help me put myself together again. But i cant stop myself from wanting. His hands will enable me. They will feed my addictions and fuel my downward spiral. Once i know this new found pleasure, i fear it will become an addiction. I worry that i will crave the touch of abbrasive hands and feed on the tellings of high and mighty men.



I fell too fast. There was just something about him. He was addictive. Like crack except prettier. His laugh was infectious. His voice sweet and soothing. He had this playful but intense aura about him that drew me in. I thought that he was a good man. His hands were so gentle with me, as if he thought i might break. But there was something wild beyond the surface waiting to break free that had me fascinated and curious. Curious to see if i could break it and set it free. I thought the intimacy; that hot, heavy, passionate, toe curling connection was authentic. I fell in love. But with love came rose coloured vision. I didnt see him for what he really was. A man. Just a man. I have learned not to trust so easily. The heart i wore on my sleeve got crushed and so now it is safely tucked away in between my ribs. Locked away in a cage for its own protection. I shared dark secrets, and hopeful dreams that i wish never dared to escape my lips. I shared my very being and my soul. And he took all of that and ended it in one minute. It was a short romance, but it hit me deeply. I am recovered, but it will always stick with me, a cationary tale not to fall too fast too soon. Not to trust so easily and believe so readily. I am stronger for the heartbreak. And i do not regret the experience. But i will not go back. Only forwards.



Do you ever get that feeling where all you want to do is go home? But youre so lost in your mind and your life that you dont even know where that is anymore? Youre fucking everything thing up and disapointing everyone that cares about you. Do you know that saying home is where the heart is? What if youre heart is just as lost as your head? Youre completely fucked up and you honestly have no idea what to do. You feel like everything youve been trying to build is crumbling down around you and theres no way you can stop it. All the pieces are falling on top of you, waying you down and crushing you. You feel like you cant breath. You just want to go home. But you cant. Because you dont know where that is. You feel incredibly alone and theres nothing you can do but swim in it. Drown in it. Maybe when the loneliness fills up your lungs everything will be quiet. So you let it happen but it just gets louder and louder until you cant take it anymore. Thats when you decide to count all the knives you have in the kitchen. You put them all in the bottom draw and close it as hard as possible. Convincing your self that if they are in that draw, then they dont exist. Because all you want to do is use every single on of those nineteen knives to silence all the noise. Stop all the pain. Free everyone from the burden you have become. But instead you sit and you cry and you go back to that draw every half an hour and count them again, just to make sure you got it right.


thank you to the woman who saved my life 

I feel like im on top of the world, like everything is going my way. I have goals that shine like hope into a future I couldn’t even imagine only months ago. The deep ache that consumed me is now but a distance thrum of energy, reminding me of the before and how far I’ve  come. I still have a long way to go, but the darkness that shrouded my path is gone. In its place is a golded warmth that makes me excited for life. I havent been excited about anything in a long time. 

I am comfortable in my home and the creeping anxiety is fading away. I am finally content with where my life is heading. I feel as though I am paving a stone path that will be the foundation of my happiness. Happiness is my goal and I’m so close to reaching it that I could scream. I want to run outside in a thunderstorm and spin around and around in cirles until the ground and the sky are confused in my vision. And if the great lightening chooses me to strike, I shall use its power to propell me towards my dreams.

 I want to say thank you, to the most beautiful best friend I could ever ask for. You picked me up when I was at the lowest point in my life and helped me see that I had potential. You see it in me everyday even when I can’t see it for myself. You pointed me towards a new begining and helped me to see that I am beautiful and worthy. So thank you, for saving me from myself. I will forever be greatful 


Rant: Bad friends and unhealthy expectations

I moved to him because he inspired happiness. He was the type of person that had boundless energy that was contagious and I was desperately drained. I thought he was the solution to my problem. (I realise that he is not a solution to my problems but rather another human being and that putting that kind of responsibility on someone is unhealthy. What I’m trying to say is that I thought being around his personality and energy would help to motivate me to be better and get out there more, which it did to an extent.) My problem being depression and social anxiety, it was destined to end in disaster. So I moved in with him, in a share house with two other people. They were nice and quiet and kept to themselves mostly. I was okay with that, because he was there and his presence made me feel alive again after being so close to dead for so long. He was so fun and exciting. His life was always full of something, whether it be drama or relationships or depression. He was the everything to my nothing. He filled up the space that I had too much of. He distracted me from my problems and encouraged me to keep on forgetting about them.

But he was also so absorbed in his own life, and his own problems that he didn’t notice my struggle. And he had significant problems. Maybe even ones that were bigger and more important than my own. But friends are meant to be there for each other. I was there for him throughout the entire thing, even if sometimes he didn’t notice that he was unloading all his troubles onto my shoulders. At the time, the added weight didn’t make much difference, there was already so much there. But soon I began to stumble under it all, my shoulders began to ache and my back started to creek. I felt the need to put it all down and run away from it but I couldn’t leave him to deal with all his troubles on his own and run home to my mother. I was an adult now, a woman who could deal with her problems on her own without crying to mummy. And so I stayed.

The first eye opening thing that made me realise that maybe out friendship was lopsided was on New Years Eve. AKA the night that my Father killed himself seventeen years ago. This year, away from my family, it hit me particularly hard. My father had chosen to kill himself rather than to get help and live his life and raise me. It made me drag up hard questions. “Am I not worth wanting to stick around for?” “Did he not love me enough?” “Am I not good enough?” I had this hole in my chest where his love should have been and that night it started to ache so profusely and I needed my friend there to help me through it. Instead he chose to spend the night with his boyfriend, even though he knew what I was going through and dealing with. It was a sign. I should have seen it then and packed my bags, gone home or moved on to somewhere else. But I didn’t.

A month later he tells me he’s moving to Melbourne with his Boyfriend, whom he had only know for four months. We had been friends for three years and I had literally moved states to be with him and he’s just going to up and leave me here all alone. Now I understand that the move was this big thing for him. There are more job opportunities in Melbourne, his boyfriend was going to be there and he didn’t want to end things just because of the distance. But I thought at least he would have talked to me before he made the decision, asked me my opinion on the matter or something along those lines. Instead he just tells me, oh by the way I’m moving away and you’ll be here all by yourself and I don’t particularly care about your feelings on the matter.

Instead of yelling at him like I wanted to do, I told him to do what he wanted. And he did. It’s been a couple of months since he left and I’m still so angry with him, but I never expressed that anger to his face. I regret that I didn’t. We don’t talk as much anymore. I just don’t have the stomach to talk to him when all he can do is talk about himself and his life and his problems. He doesn’t even ask me how I’m doing. I’ve assumed he doesn’t care.

If he doesn’t care, then neither do I.



not bad, not good, just Eh.
that feeling where happiness is just out of reach and you feel numb
that feeling where the world is too loud, but you crave to hear it anyway
I hate eh, because I get this itch under my skin that I cant reach and it makes me want to move, but it also makes me want to be still and do nothing
my focus blurs, I can’t concentrate enough to sit down and read a book to pass the void time
I am inside a black hole
everything is so slow, and yet going too fast for me to notice it all
I can’t keep up and soon it will all disappear for ever and I’ll never get it back and yet I still waste my time
people often mistake this feeling for boredom, but I know better.
it is more than bored
it is more that tired
it is nothing and everything all at once
all the questions of the universe crashing into your body
traveling through your veins until it reaches your heart
and turns it black with darkness
all the unanswered questions pile up
and crush you like a tonne of feathers
so soft on your skin but still with the weight of a thousand suns
but without the light
who needs vision anyway when all you’ll see in this world is
people hurting each other for no good reason
who needs vision anyway when all you will see is people suffering
who needs vision anyway when all you will see is people standing by,
not doing anything to help
when they have the means and the money and the power


another mop

I am lonely
As lonely as the sun, hanging in the sky all by itself
Like the stars that shine so bright but so far away from one another
Like the separation of two pieces of land by a strong flowing river that refuses to move
Like the ocean floor that longs for the sky
And the sunlight longs for a touch of darkness
I am lonely
I crave the crowded, noisy warmth of companionship
I want to ease into a great love
That will define the world
and make relativity seem simple in comparison
I want the touch of another
To know what skin feels like when it touches mine
When it wraps me up in a loving hug
and makes me feel safe for the first time in a long time
I want someone to wipe away the tears that flow freely
as I attempt to assuage the deep ache in my heart
I am lonely and I am hopeful


the constant barrage of good and bad thoughts that float through my brain on a day to day basis

The initial thoughts

Nobody wants you
Nobody likes you
You’re not good enough
You’re not worth their time
They don’t like you
They hate you
They only talk to you because they feel sorry for you
You’re ugly
You’re fat
You’re worthless
Your face is too round
Your stomach is so big you could use it as a bench
You need to loose weight
You need to wear makeup to make yourself look prettier
because nobody is going to notice you the way you are
You will never be enough no matter how hard you try
So stop trying

Counteracting thoughts

Love yourself no matter what
Who cares if you’re fat?
Stop caring about what other people think of you
As long as you are happy and healthy, nothing else matters
You do have people who love you
You do have people who care about you
You are not worthless
You are worth a thousand stars
You will burn bright and powerful
Bodies come in all shapes and sizes
Yours is normal
Yours is beautiful
Do what makes you happy
Wear makeup if you want to
Don’t wear makeup if you don’t want to
People will see you as you no matter what you think about yourself
What you see when you look at yourself is distorted by your minds opinions and insecurities
Other people don’t care about your weight
If they do, then they’re not worth your time
You are worthy
You are beautiful
You are amazing
Be yourself


i’m gone

my voice is fading
my eyes are caving in
your power is overwhelming
I can’t help it
if i fall under your spell again
you’re supposed to be supportive
but all you do is talk shit
you don’t catch me when I fall
instead you point and laugh at all
my attempts to help myself
I need you to be someone else
but you’re not and I can’t change you
instead maybe i should leave you
but love is about sacrifice
and, well, sometimes you treat me nice
it should be ALL the time
you should make me wanna fly
but I feel like I’m drowning
in all your negativity
I think I need to set me free
cut loose all of your baggage
that you’ve been making me carry
so if you love me set me free
go on and let me be
it’ll be healthy for the both of us
to get some time apart from this
but your power is overwhelming
I can’t help if it I fall
under your spell again
I’m gone
I’m gone
your casual and callous destruction
don’t leave me with no function
when your hands touch my skin
it makes me feel like a shining star
but your fingers leave a galaxy
of bruises where they are
I’m gone.




An Observation; Ben

His hands are steady as he puts pen to paper; images flowing from his mind and into being. His face is the picture of concentration as he draws, his mouth set in a determined line. His usually expressive eyebrows still and clam as he works. He sings along absently to the blissful music spinning on the record player in the background. His fluffy hair hands in his face just touching the line of his brow and his eyelashes touch his cheeks each time he blinks. He is content.



Today is the day
of chocolate delights
and hold me tights
of forget me knots
and cooking pots

Today is the day
of lazing around
and going down
of worn out sheets
and really cold feet

Today is the day
of being alone
and hearing you moan
of drinking wine
and having a good time

Today is the day
that I tell you
and you say it too
those three little words
I love you


my father

I miss what he was meant to be. I wonder what he was like. What type of music did he like to listen to? What did his toes look like? How did he eat spaghetti? What were his opinions on gay and trans people? What did his handwriting look like?

I can’t remember what it felt like to be in his arms, to be the reason that he smiled. I always find myself wondering what my life would have been like if he was here to participate in it. Would I have turned out differently to the person I am today? Would his influence have made me a better person? What kind of advice would he give me when I’m having a hard time?

I feel his absence like a hole in my chest. But that hole has always been there and I don’t know any differently. How do you miss someone that you never knew?

The word Dad or Daddy is foreign on my tongue. I look at my friends and their fathers and just find it so odd that they have this close loving relationship where I just have a gaping hole.

He died when I was three years old. It’s been seventeen years and I still have questions. Questions that will haunt me forever because they will never be answered.



I have found the illusive and mysterious unicorn. I have found it in the form of a man.

I have found it in the way he smiles when silence turns awkward and when his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. He is a rare breed of polite man, whom doesn’t act like the ever so common fuck boy. He holds open doors, he drives you home after a date and he doesn’t expect anything in return. He is a nerd. He’s nearly got a science degree and he loves Lord of the Rings enough to actually get through reading all the books without wanting to die more than twice. He is genuinely kind. He loves dogs and thinks you’re weird because you don’t. He coo’s over dogs he meets in the street. He’s the nice guy that girls say that they’re looking for while they gallivant about with the aforementioned fuck boys. His body language screams strong and capable but a little bit self conscious. He wears shirts that fit him perfectly, outlining his arms and chest. Damn, I could stare at him all day and not get bored. I find myself wanting to lean into his warmth and feel his skin against mine.

I have found the illusive and mysterious unicorn. I have found it in the form of a man.


the woman I want to be

She had an elegance about her. The way she moved with a flow and grace, every single step and twitch a precise art crafted in her mind. The swish of her long brown hair and the way her hips swayed slightly when she walked, her footsteps a whisper on the pavement.

She cultivated her image. She wanted to be something , and so she was. She wanted to do something and she did. Her confidence came with ease, and her smile even more so. Her laughter was boisterous and infectious; the pure joy she emanated made everyone in her vicinity immediately happy. She was the incarnation of perfection, and yet she had her flaws too.

She never wore matching socks, hated getting out of bed on cold winter mornings and often took to a tub of nutella with a spoon. She was blunt and unapologetic, sometimes coming of as mean and she hated animals. She had the tendency to talk over people and she snorted loudly when she tried to scoff in derision.

And yet he still loved her anyway.


musings of a woman in crush mode

He had been so close to her, she had felt his body heat radiating out towards her. She couldn’t take her eyes of his lips. Then he leaned forward and pressed them against her own with his scratchy stubble tickling her. She hadn’t much experience kissing. The only proper kiss she had ever had was from a man who thought that shoving his tongue down her throat and slobbering all over her face was the right approach. That was nothing compared to his strong and sure lips, parted slightly against hers.

God, she wished he would kiss her again. She’d hardly been able to think of anything else since last Sunday. On the way home she couldn’t stop her smile from overwhelming her. It was certainly a memory she would hold on to.

She thought of ways she would have responded differently. She would have been more relaxed, more enthusiastic and she would have leaned in and kissed him again, if only to prolong the experience. She wondered what it would be like to sleep with him. From the way he talked, she knew he would be demanding and rough, and it made her core tingle just at the thought. But she also thought he would be extremely good at slow and teasing. She would certainly end up begging for more.

If only he actually messaged her back. She didn’t know if he was interested, or if he thought that she wasn’t interested. Maybe he was just busy and she was being paranoid and over anxious about the entire situation. She generally got that way about such things. The waiting around was killing her and she was eager for more of him, even if it was just a hug, she knew that she would make sure he knew that she wanted him. She wanted his intimacy. Her lack of it made her unused to human contact and now that she’d had just a little bit, she craved more.

She’d never been much of a hugging person. The only person that she had ever felt comfortable hugging after the age of thirteen was her best friend Amy. It was probably because Amy never judged her. The other girl made her feel loved and comfortable in her own skin. He made her feel like that too.

If only he knew the affect he had on her. Maybe to him, a kiss was just a kiss; something that had lost its meaning with time and repetition. But to her, it was the world. She didn’t usually feel comfortable enough to let any person kiss her but he made her feel things. What things, she was still figuring out but one day she would know, and hopefully he would too.