Wet and soggy. I felt gross. Like fucking shit.

My back was completely soaked.

I put my headphones in my ears and slowly opened the front door with my key, making sure not to let my keys jingle too much.

Another sharp kick, hit me in my ovaries; my cramps were on fire today. I was not in the mood for any kind of shit, especially not from him.

I hated everything about him. His face, his voice, his presence. That little smirk he made when he thought he had won.

Don’t let him get to you, they would tell me. He’s not worth it.

Of course I knew he wasn’t fucking worth it. It was all good and well putting your two cents together when you were on the outside. But this was my life, my everyday existence.

I couldn’t get away from it. His condensation, his fucking smarmy ways. I was the fucking obedient nodding dog, who kept my lips shut and agreed to everything he said.

How had he survived for so long? Weakness, roared hotly inside of my head, she was weak.

She made me sick. She was everything I didn’t want to be.

A reoccurring fear kept visiting me. What if her and I, were one in the same? What if I made the same mistakes that she had? That when I finally found someone, I too would stumble and fall, and accept every lie, every misstep, due to the fear of being alone.

My chest felt tight.

I closed the door and took my key out of the lock. I turned up the music and turned right back around.



They say bad things happen in threes.

Well more than three bad things had happened in the past few hours and I was starting to think that I was cursed.

Bad things were happening to me and I had gotten to the stage where I didn’t believe in luck anymore.

I had woken up this morning and bumped my head and then I had fallen asleep at work due to said bump on the head and gotten a warning. My phone had then fallen down and the screen shattered, my lunch had exploded in the microwave. And that was just one fifth of the things that had happened.

All I wanted to do was lay down and wish this whole day away. And hope that my good fortune would return.


I’m trapped up here in this cage and you are my warden.

There are so many ways that I despise you, but listing them out would give you validation and I don’t want that.

I don’t want you to seem more important than you are.

Because to me you are no one. You are nothing. Nothing but an annoying bug that won’t stop buzzing around.

Why don’t you leave. Find someone else to shack up with. Your presence here is no longer needed.

You have no importance.

You walk around like a bad smell making everyone unhappy.

Times were great when you weren’t here. We were all happy, we lived, we breathed, we got on with life. You are not needed and nor are you wanted.

But with most things you can’t take a hint.

Every night you walk back through that door.

Your dragon breath firing threats toward me because you believe that you call the shots.

Turning me into a prisoner so I don’t have to see your face and hear your unimportant words trickle into my ears.

I just wish you would fuck off, fuck off and leave us alone and allow us to thrive without you.


His fists tightened as he moved towards her.

He didn’t want to do this. He never did.

Life was hard. All he wanted to do was sit down relax and take a breather. But she wouldn’t let him would she? She was always on at him. Nag, nag fucking nag.

Constantly pushing his buttons. It’s like she did it on purpose. Pushing him to the edge until he exploded.

She didn’t understand him. Didn’t understand the pressure that he was under. Why couldn’t she just be understanding? Why couldn’t she see that he was hurting?

She cowered near the wall. Tears streaming down her face. She was shaking.

He hated doing this, he didn’t want to. It wasn’t him. It was all her. She made him see red. If she didn’t go on at him so much, then he wouldn’t. He would stop. He wouldn’t have too.

His knuckles stung. The skin at the corner of his hand had ripped as it made contact with bone.

His breathing calmed and he sat down.

“You know I love you,” he spoke again, his tone softer now.


The feeling of disgust battles through me on the odd occasion and no matter how many affirmations I throw at it, it just won’t leave.

It picks me apart bit by bit. You’re too fat. You’re ugly. You have too many spots. Your hair is shit.

Attack after attack, after attack. It’s no wonder I’m so messed up.

It’s a little demon that I just can’t get rid off, and when it leaves best believe it won’t be long before it returns ready to rip me to more shreds.

Digging its heels deeper and deeper into my back.

I pray for a day that I can pick it up and kick it away so hard that it shatters to pieces.

I’m trying to get strong, day by day I’m building up my armour until it becomes impenetrable.

Until those whispers of discontent are nothing more than faint, inaudible bleeps in the wind.


I felt my blood boil over. I had never felt as angry as I did right now.

Why did people have to push me?

I was nothing but nice, nothing but a decent. But I guess bad things always happen to the good guys.

Maybe I should switch it up and become the bitch that everyone thought me to be anyway.

There were two words you never used against my name.

Sassy and aggressive.

Sassy you would get a rolled eye; but aggressive, aggressive was a whole different story.

Aggressive would let you see a whole different side to me.

And that is exactly what those boujie bitches got from me when they dared to call me aggressive.

I had to school them on their micro aggression.

And yeah it might’ve made me seem aggressive at that point but to be fair, I didn’t give to flying fucks.


A wolf in sheep’s clothing is sleeping next to me.

In the daylight he whispers sweet nothings in my ears, but by night he turns into a different person.

Gone is the man that stole my heart and in his place is the man that stole my life.

Bound to him by a metal circle, I am his prisoner.

The love that used to radiate from me, has now turned cold. Instead the dark smell of hatred sits in its place.

I hate how much I hate him. I want nothing to be free of him.

Some nights I dream of killing him in his sleep. I imagine placing my hands around his neck and squeezing until I hear a pop. I think of his eyes never opening again and never again having to hear his voice. His whiny nasally voice that is nails on a chalkboard to me. The feeling of relief knowing that I will finally be free.

But I never act upon my urges. I lay there until sleep takes me away, listening to the rise and fall of his breath. Tears staining my pillow, knowing that I will be locked away with him forever, knowing there will never be an escape for me.


I’m a happiness sucker.

I see people who are happy and because I don’t experience it myself, I wish nothing but misery on them.

I don’t want others to experience emotions that I no longer feel or have ever experienced.

If I am unable to experience the small chills of joy through my own body, why should anyone else.

If I am destined to walk in gloom, so should every one else.

So yes, I roll my eyes when I see people wrapped up in public displays of affection. Yes, I sigh loudly when I see a group of people in the midst of laughter.

So what if I’m jealous. It will never make me change my ways. I forever and always will be a happiness sucker.


I don’t feel good.

I feel sad and ashamed and lost. There’s no longer a destination for me. I’ve lost all direction.

I have no motivation. And when you don’t have motivation, what gets you up? What drives you?

Some days I feel sad. Some days I feel nothing. Some days I’m just there, floating around in a ball of distractions.

I watch TV, I read a book, play a game, speak to friends. On the rare occasion I might go for a walk. But none of those things give me satisfaction, because at the end of the day, I know I will just continue drifting off into a void of incompleteness.

The power of loneliness and unfulfillment has gripped ahold of my heart and my soul and has no plans of letting go any time soon.

I want to stop crying, hating on others joy. I don’t want to be the cynic sitting alone in the corner.

I want to live life to the fullest, experience things. I don’t want to give up on me. I don’t want to stop the growth of the person that I’m meant to be. But how do I become that person?

I once had potential. I get told that all the time. Now I sit in dark rooms, with only me for company.

I am not a friend to myself, so how can I be friends with others? Relationships that once were so strong and solid, have drifted away. I don’t want my negativity to spread to them. And without the negativity what else is there to talk about?

I don’t do anything, I haven’t experienced anything new. All I have for them is feelings of doom and gloom. I don’t want them to experience my load, so I keep it trapped it the back of my head and every now and then I offload it onto myself.

I have bruises and scars, on once perfect skin. They hide in places that others can’t see, but I know that they are there. Sometimes they feel as if they are the only ones who really know me, know the real me. Sometimes they feel as if they are my only companions. I don’t give them names though. That would be a step too far.

I just want to feel happy. Have a sense of worth. I don’t want to feel this way anymore.

I want to feel good.


Alone again. Forgotten.

I was never part of a ‘them’ or a ‘we’.

I was the unwanted toy that wasn’t part of the Christmas time rush. Stuck on the top shelf collecting dust, with the threat of a bright orange reduced sticker looming in my future.

Why was I never asked if I wanted to come? Why was I never chosen?

Countless nights of tears had been shed over these pondering wonders.

Maybe I just wasn’t good enough.

I didn’t fit the ideal picture of what perfection was. I was the bright spark in a pastel peach setting.

I didn’t fit in.

I was the odd one out.

There but forgettable.

One day I would be loved the way that I deserved to be. One day I would be someone’s number one. I would be the prize.