It’s your eyes.

You have these “I’m an open book but I have some hidden chapters eyes”. The “I’ll treat you right, but if you break my heart don’t think I won’t break yours too” eyes.

They were the first things that drew me to you. I was intrigued.

I felt an immediate connection with you. And you felt it too. Well you’ve told me you did. Unless you were lying.

Sometimes when you’re not looking, I like to gaze into them. I often wonder what you’re thinking. What makes you tick? What makes you do the things you do?

Whether you really love me? Whether you wish that I was someone else?

I question if there is something that you are hiding from me? If it’s something bad? Would I be able to forgive you? Would I move on? Or would it stay in my head, forever niggling at me?

Would I grow to resent you? Would I leave? Would you leave?

But then I look back into your eyes and I feel reassurance. I feel your arms reaching out for me. I feel safe.

Your eyes tell me all I need to know.

Your eyes make me happy.



I’m sure there is this rule out there that states that there has to be a balance to everything.

Like for every rich person there has to be a poor person and for every happy person there has to be a sad person.

Well I guess I’m destined to be the sad person, because no matter what I do in order to complete my mission of becoming happy, I can never quite get there.

I’m forever destined to feel sad, to feel depressed, to feel no self worth, to feel more than down in the dumps.

Because what else can it be? Why am I always so unhappy? Nothing ever seems to go right, I’m always on the 4 steps backward journey.

There has to be someone holding the strings above right?

Maybe I just need to find my opposite, get rid of them and then I’d be the happy one.

I’d finally be able to get off the bus of sadness.


I’ve reached the conclusion that I’m destined to be alone forever. That I’m meant to stay unloved.

I’ve been single for the best part of a decade. In that decade I have been on a numeral of zero dates.


What’s wrong with me? A question I find myself debating on a frequency.

Am I ugly? Am I too fat? Am I too dark? Am I boring?

What is it?

It saddens me because all I want to do is love and be loved. Is that such a big ask?

The more time goes on, the more alone I grow.

I’ve become a cynic. I glare at couples on the street and pass secret judgement on them when the express displays of affection. I say it disgusts me, but truthfully I envy them.

I want someone to hold onto my hand like it’s their lifeline. I want someone to kiss me, graze my neck, stare deeply into my eyes. I want some one to tell me that they love me.

Why am so I unlovable? Why am I the one still on the shelf? Why am I the one that no one wants?

Why am I destined to be alone? My heart spills over with so much love, but there’s no one to receive it.

I feel empty, lost… I don’t feel whole.

What is wrong with… me?


I lay there as the blood continued to flow out of me.

I couldn’t believe that this really was the end.

It had finally caught up to me.

My life had been a constant game of cat and mouse, always looking over my shoulder. I had been lucky up until now that I had never been caught.

I was an outlaw, always on the run; never settling down, never building a home.

In a way I was happy. I would soon be at peace, I could stop running.

The pain had stopped a while ago. A wave of acceptance had replaced it.

It was now just a waiting game.

I was finally going home.


Silence is scary.

Have you ever sat in a room, without making a noise and just listened? I mean really listened.

There’s always some form of noise. Whether it’s electronics humming or old structures creaking, there is always some form of noise.

So when you are confronted by total silence, then my friend you must be prepared to be scared.

And scared I was.

The silence was more than deafening.

I wanted to scream, to bash my fists against the outside of my ears just so I could hear something other than my shaky breath.

I wanted nothing more than to run away to the comfort of my own home, to the noises that kept me safe. But I couldn’t, I was trapped here.

I sat there in the darkness, my nails raw from having clawed at the door previously. I was never getting out of here. I was never going home.

Invisible non existent tears rolled down my cheeks. Dried up from many episodes of crying.

I was all alone.

With only silence as my constant companion.


I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the warm breeze to envelop me.

A small smile crept over me.

It was like you were still here.

This was always your favourite time of the year. You always joked that the petals that fell from the the blossom on the trees, were whispers from angels.

The grass was covered in fallen blossom. I knew that these were whispers from you.

You were always a massive talker and from the amount of blossom that painted the grass, it seemed you had a lot to say.

I walked over to the tree and bent down. I picked up a few petals and drew them close to me. Inhaling their scent, for a moment I felt like I could here your voice.

You were telling me that it was time. It was time that I let you go. I had to start living again.

I wanted to, but it was so hard. For the longest time you were all I knew and now that you were gone; what more was there for me to do.

I threw the petals down in protest. I didn’t want to hear anymore.

I didn’t want to let you go.

But I knew I had to.

It was time.

I had to let you go.


Disappointment dripped through every pore.

I glanced up and painted a fake smile on my face.

“Thank you,” I said behind gritted teeth. “I really like it.”

He exhaled and took me into his arms.

“I’m so glad you do. I was really fretting about it. I was so scared you would hate it.”

Guilt began to replace the disappointment. He had tried so hard to impress me and here I was being an ungrateful bitch.

I picked it up and scanned over it.

Maybe I could learn to love it.

I should just give it some time, let it all sink it.

No, I couldn’t do it. It was terrible. It truly was the worst gift I had ever received. What made him think that I would ever like something like this?

I put it back in the box and placed it on the shelf.

I thanked him again as my mind turned to future plans of tossing it in the bin.


I shake my head at how ridiculous you are. How little that you value yourself that you can let that piece of trash back into your life.

It’s always one step forward, five steps back with you.

All he has to say is a few sweet words and it’s hook, line, sinker.

I wish I could respect you, but it’s so hard to.

How many years have you already wasted on him? Why do you want to waste any more?

He obviously doesn’t feel for you the way that you feel for him, or he wouldn’t do the things he does.

How can you still love him?

I keep staring at myself in the mirror as I struggle to answer my own questions.


Guilt ran through me as I put my fork down.

I had just eaten 3 packs of noodles, an egg and a slice of bread. Buttered.

I was officially a greedy fuck.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time when I was cooking. Hunger drove you to do things that weren’t always good for you.

As I tipped the second pack of noodles into the simmering water, at no time did the angel on my shoulder turn up and say stop.


I was left on my own.

So I gave in and let hunger win and I dumped a third pack in.

But it didn’t finish there.

Oh no, it did not finish there.

The butter tub stood tall and proud tempting me, whispering in my ear that it needed to be applied to a slice of bread. That I needed to feel it’s warm butteriness as it melted against the heat of the noodles.

So I gave in and applied it to a slice of seeded bread.

I truly was a glutton.

So here I sit how, stomach bulging a constant reminder of my lack of willpower.

Whilst my brain turns somersaults, thinking of the best way that my body can try and reach the tub of chocolate that is on top of the kitchen cabinet.


It dawned on me, this was the end of everything I had ever known. The person that I had been, the person that I was, would be changed forever.

I was terrified. All I wanted to do was get up and leave, but my feet were rooted to the floor.

I had been looking forward to this for months. Planning it over and over in my head for years.

But now as the hours counted down, as the minutes and seconds ticked by, the more scared I became.

I wasn’t ready. I needed more time.

My heart pounded against my chest.

Soon they would come for me. They would come and it would be too late.

I had to make my escape.

I pulled my dressing gown around me and walked towards the door.

As my hand reached out for the handle, it stopped mid air.

An image of his face flashed before me. Memories of the love that we had, the promises that we had made to each other.

I couldn’t do this to him. I loved him to much.

I walked back over to the chair and sat down and waited on my future.