Tonight 

He was looking at me differently tonight. He was staring. He looked so handsome in dark navy blue, he seemed pleased, on cloud 9. He had the face of a man bracing himself to utter something huge. He didn’t, he didn’t need to. 

 The way  he looked at me as I was walking up the stairs after  a long and passionate Goodnight kiss, that look, that stare spoke volumes. It wasn’t a look of lust but a look of a man melting at the core. 

I think he has falllen for me.

The way he walks with our hands entwined, he gives the impression of a man about to fly. He gave me a gift, a sweet gift. I  felt a sense of unease in the fancy restauraunt, he should forgive me for my awkwardness,  I am simply not used to men spoiling me like this. 

I do not want to seem presumptuous. I don’t want my delusions of grandeur to get in the way of rational thinking.

I can’t stop thinking about him and I don’t wanna get hurt.

04:46am

There is something fundamentally wrong with me. I am still awake, taking comfort in food and purging. On autopilot. I feel like an animal. I have this astonishing ability to taint what would have been a good day with my unending misery inducing habits. 

Food haunts me. I can’t stop. 

Bones

I wrote about being  trapped by geography for so long. I genuinely believed I could escape my troubles by getting on an airplane and forging a new life.

I did.

I am still the same. I am still haunted by the same things. I am still a raging bulimic. I am killing myself slowly. I  haven’t healed,  I hurt less. My emotions are not as violent as they used to be but I know they are there. 

I have nights when I cry till I wrap my hands around my own body and  embrace myself. I cannot bear to look at my mum’s pictures. It breaks my heart. Talking to her on the phone. It crushes something inside of me. I can still smell her scent sometimes. I like to imagine her calm disposition. The trips we used to take, me on the passenger seat. Its still so vivid.  I carry these memories in my bones and in my heart. I carry it with me.

 I do not write as often, writing makes me tap into those dormant emotions. I can feel the helplessness in my hands. I can feel the tension, terror and confusion in my temples. I am not alone nor am I lonely. I am terrified of these avenues. I am terrified of being so broken again.

These ties we cannot sever

There is air in my lungs still. I thought I would die but I didn’t. I crumbled. I crumble still. I ache and ache and wish for a sweeter breath. A more vivid tomorrow. I have been hopeful, full of despair, self destructive, fearful  and peaceful. I have been these things all in the same breath.

I have stopped searching for answers perhaps just truths. I am weary but steadfast. 

I am heartbroken and falling in love. I no longer shed tears for the thing that I wanted. I wanted him but it wasn’t meant to be. I tried. I lost myself, my faith, my self respect whilst on this frenzied mission to make him see my worth. My love was bloody, needy, sacrificial and intense. God I was too intense.

Its these ties, these bonds we cannot sever. I tried. The longest was 21 days and he crawled back. One of us always does. When we do, the reconnection is immediate, the excitement unbridled. He is on another continent but I can feel he is right here with me. What we have is cheap but profound. Paradoxical fuckery. He claims to still love me, those words have no effect on me now. However, he did make me cry by opening up the lid on closely shut memories from last year. I have never seen him talk like this before. He has never been this vulnerable. Why now?. It’s too late in the day.

The new man I have been seeing is a dream. He is the reason why I smile, he is the reason why I no longer wake up with this ominous feeling in my chest. He calmed it all, not by carefully managing my mental health, no. He did it by solely being present. He is  mannered and loyal. He is everything I have ever dreamt of. Despite all his charm & perfection. I am betraying him, day by day. Its these ties we cannot sever. I am a woman. I have these slutty tendencies.  I am slut. I can choke it down to my own insecurities and declare what I am engaging in isn’t legitimate cheating but I am a woman with a loving boyfriend and yet I cannot seem to cut ties with an old lover who is thousands of miles away but still I am in the wrong. 

I don’t love my former boyfriend anymore. I stopped when I realised he had nothing to offer me. He would never sacrifice nor does he want to. You see, I am also a fool but I am not in a fool in love anymore. I just can’t let go. I have attempted to ascertain why? Maybe the familiar is so sweet. I don’t know but I do know that I have well and truly fallen from grace.

It’s been a while 

​The day after tomorrow marks exactly 4 months since I made my big and permanent move to South Korea. I still can’t believe it. Sometimes when my eyes are closed, in bed or when I allow my mind to drift off for a few minutes I forget  I am here and I feel as though I  am back home for just a nanosecond and then I am reminded.

This new city is overwhelming, the immensity of it. The vibrancy. The isolation. I lived in a small town for 3 months when I first arrived I threw myself into the heart of it all. The belly of the beast. My former roommates made me feel like shit, they told me they were getting a place of their own and that I should think about finding somewhere else, I was left in a state of shock. How could they. I gave them a week’s notice, they treated me as the bad guy. I stuck to my guns and left.

My now boyfriend helped me look for another place to live and then  helped me move. We had known each other for only month then. There was just osomething about him from day 1, something about his spirit. On our first date, the most memorable day. He took me to various places, it felt like a dream. He is the old fashioned type, believes in taking a woman out to proper restaurants and he is no stranger to all those romantics gestures that a girl like me could only imagine only happens in those korean dramas. He is gentle in his speech, character and touch. Treats me like a princess and thinks of me in such high regard. He is simply amazing. It makes me cry when I think about just how good he is. We’ve been seeing each other for 2 and a half months. He talks about things in the long-term & that from a man was a foreign thing to me since my dickhead of an ex is the  complete opposite.

I am however, still entangled and in embarrassingly and pathetically in love with and addicted to my ex. I recently just cut all contact with him for the umpteenth time. He lied when we were in the process of rekindling things. He was talking to some girl he met online months ago but all the while feeding me lies. I wonder which one of us will crawl back first.

3 months

​Its been 3 months since I have moved to Asia, feels longer. I can’t express in words the  places derive of place through which I and my mind have journeyed. I have worked in factories, felt the surfeits of fatigue and drained some kind of weakness out of my spine. Weakness and something. Something I can’t quite ascertain.
My depression got worse then progressively better and so did my anxiety, I suppose I can attribute that to well, a combination of things. I let him go not completely but enough to be able to function and not feel like I am losing my senses. I started dating again, it was this impulsive non stop train. I finally settled on this one particular man who is so calm in the way he talks and is so patient and caring and he makes me feel like a queen, no guy has ever treated me so well. I feel as though I conjured him up in my head. He is great but there is nothing there on my end. No giddiness, no excitement just a sense of security and safety. I feel guilty.

I have moved into my own match box sized place and my bulimia has been given some kind of rebirth. I have been on a frenzy for a week now. Non stop,  wasting money I do not have. Draining myself of much needed strength. I feel a little more fragile this week.  I am still in love with my ex and he is still in love with me too. He is the place where I go to flower and then die at the same time. I don’t know. F

It’s happening again 

So I’m finally settled in the apartment I share with 2 other girls, they are lovely. A bit on the partying, extroverted side but they are okay. This is my third week here and perhaps it is because of my period that I am feeling this way, maybe it’s the fact that after two weeks the idea of lying idle, enjoying snacks and taking walks isn’t at all that relaxing anymore. Suppose it’s the anxiety surrounding the fact that I will be working soon, paying rent and supporting myself. I have never really worked in the sense of having a full time paying job, just random gigs.

I also miss my family dearly, I miss my bed and my mum’s reassuring talks, my dad’s walk, and my brother and I’s inside jokes. Most of all, I miss that feeling of belonging, to have a right to sit in that chair, a solid right to sit on that lawn because it was my home. I feel like a visitor, an intruder. It’s happening again, I can feel it. The darkening, the panic ridden moments, minutes and days. The terror in the morning, the wanting to crawl outside of the body but can’t. The desperation where I vest all my will to live in him. His attention wavers, I collapse into a heap. There has been no reassurance from him, just fights and I threatened to walk away he said Go. I did and came back. I need him. I need that feeling of not being alone. It’s all a coping mechanism but I need it for as long as I can extract it. 

I am so down.