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.


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.

Never bloomed

​​I have been on zero contact with him for 48 hours. Yesterday felt a little like death, the without is always crippling. I shed some tears for the thing I don’t need but want and can’t have. I am hurting, I think of him every waking moment, my mind always reverts back to him. Getting teary eyed when shopping with my mother, laughing and then remebering him then choking on the lump in my throat. 

In the midst of all this I am however at peace, my mind isn’t wondering about were I am currently placed in the map or order of his life. Am I still top order, middle order or low order. I want to let go with grace.

I have always ached for distant places as I have always felt trapped by geography.
It’s the environment I am in, I would say to myself. If I leave I will find it, whatever it is.

He came along and I stopped wanting. I found it possible to find my happiness and home in the confines of this small town. I  thought I had made a breakthrough, why go halfway across the world in search of something, in search of inner peace, happiness and completeness if it’s here. I made a home in his eyes and his warm skin, my delusions have no limits. I stopped running away from myself when he was with me. That is why I never left in the beginning. Clinging on to that euphoria in the hope that things would change and bloom more than the current. The flowers never bloomed some more, I wilted and left.

Dragging to sea

​I have somewhat been lost in the dream. I say somewhat because I am realistic enough to know that what we have will never be more than this but it is tremendously healing. We keep dragging each other to sea.

 I learned to cradle and love but I also learnt how to live without when we ceased communication, the darkest days of my life yet.  He reappeared when I had come to grips with the break up, when I stopped crying all day and every emotion had faded to black but however still raw. He said he can’t live without me and said the most touching words, I could doubt his sincerity but he has nothing to “profit” since he is a million miles away. Those words were catalyst that turned my quivering river into a silent unruffled flow. 

I healed a little more that night. Healed from him and what he could not give me. 

There was this stillness in my bones.

I still need his presence in my life in whatever capacity. I need him. I don’t know what we are doing at present but it seems we are carrying some kind of long distance relationship, whatever it is. We talk all day and until the early hours of the morning only stopping because of sleep stealing us away. 

Maybe I should not have opened the door but what can I do when he is some kind of antidepressant. He is the only thing I can stand. I heal on my own but with him presented into the picture, I heal wholly. I am playing a dangeous game. Trying to be careful with my grip, they say the looser it is, the easier. I should know this.

My moods have improved, I have been praying and I don’t know what happened the week of August 10.. I just went blank, I meant to write but I lacked the attention span. I am working on something big that could potentially be life altering and I am excited and afraid. This thing came at the right time, a life line of sorts. It will happen. 

Bordering on psychotic 

​I particularly hate this time of the day now. The specific look and shade of the sky, the faint sun fading over the horizon, the slight chill in the breeze. This familiar.
This time is when I used to be walking towards the bus stop to go and see him after he finished work. Another Ritual. Severed. It became the most natural thing. The seasons bled into each other, from the blazing hot summer, to the rainy summer, to winter. I remember braving the rain to see him at all costs, nevermind my drenched shoes or the chill of the water because he would be there at the finish line.

In my attempts at carefully managing this breakup, I have stopped wearing my old perfume. The one I wore especially for him. Just a whiff of it takes me back and saddens me. I pass by the old spots and streets and I feel as though there are traces of him in the air and something supportive to my emotional well being is quietly gutted out of me. I can handle old songs. Just these places and rituals that destroy me. 

 I can still see his face each time I think of him, the black of his hair, the bright eyes. The delicate features.

I have stopped keeping tabs on him, so what if he was last seen on Facebook 2 hours ago.  Just seeing his last seen comforts me somewhat because its a reaffirmation that it is still there. Am I psychotic. I can’t make sense of this madness. There is a vast sea between us now,  it doesn’t matter now. Nothing does. Nomatter how the stars align someday, I’ll never have him.

May and June 

I start realising that maybe this relationship is something that is not helping me grow as a woman, it is not nourishing my soul in the way a relationship should. It gives but also drains in tandem. Sure, we have fun, we are meshing into each other’s patterns, he makes me laugh and he is now showing me his vulnerable side, he is sharing more, I feel connected to every part of him but at the very end of the day, this transiency, this secret nature of the relationship makes me feel somewhat second class, like some exotic fun time before his mother finds him a perfect bride.  All I will have is the story.
 I am a plant that needs watering, we all are. He waters me on the surface, floods me infact but it’s all doused in consequence. I need to be watered from the root upwards, in essence I do not feel whole in this. I have to leave him. 

Towards the middle of May, I break up with him after I find out he had been deceitful when he said he loved me months ago, I gave him my virginity under falsehoods but he says that now he did end up falling in love with me. I never trust a word he says after this. I am still madly in love with him so I take him back and we continue, he tries by all means to atone. 

June comes round, because of certain religious issues we cannot meet as often but he even sacrifices just so he can see me. At this point I know he values my company and what we have. We are making the most of the little time we have together. We are even going out in public but I know I have to leave him. 

He had these fetishes that left me feeling like a sex object and I thought he would tire of it after a while but he did not. We do things for the people we love, I wanted to please and make him happy because I could never deny that man anything but this fetish left me feeling like trash, not valued or respected. Degraded. 

It was this side of him that I did not understand and in the end I could not separate the guy he was and this unsettling side of him. 

He was blind sided because he thought things were going great and that we would carry on until he departed the country but I could not go ONE MORE DAY with him and his fetishes. 


​I have posted about winds of change before . A certain day when I am free of all that plagues me, something devours the lethargy. Today I woke up at 5:30am, I sighed the moment I woke. It was so dark and I was still.. miserable. This familiar a.m. scene,  it’s starting to feel played out.

Today for once, I resisted the oppressive feeling in me to want to stay at home, to not get out of bed, to not shower until nightfall. To just let another mundane day bleed into another. The last time I was out of the house, I burst into tears in the middle of the street. In broad daylight.

I capitalised on this sudden burst of drive and want. I got up and went to an audition, it went well. I felt important and admired. Narc supply. I came home and ate, sat and texted. My migraine is too throbbing for me to think otherwise. It still hurts but I think I can still accomplish my dreams, find another door to push into.

I passed by our spot this afternoon, I shifted my gaze firmly away. Its too much. He is everywhere I look, his name lives in the spaces between each breath I take. Despite all this, I think I can live without him.