Late night convos 1

“Who hurt you? Enough to make you so damn cynical about commitment and love?” She asked you bleary eyed while puffing away at her cigarette. 

“No, one.” You say, “and I’m not saying this just to halt any further inquest, it is true. I’ve never been in a position to be hurt that much to not believe in relationships, it’s just, you know, I’ve seen people lose themselves in the idea of forever that they forget to leave something for themselves, so that when the other person leaves it’s as if a part of them is torn from their being. I don’t want that to happen to me.” 

“That’s fucked up. Honey, pain is inevitable in this world. Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘la douleur exquise’?” She asked.

“Exquisite pain? Now who’s fucked up? That’s quite masochistic don’t you think?” 

She laughed. She lighted another stick. “There is a fine line between pleasure and pain. That is not the point though, we’re talking about your fear of commitment. You’ve never been in a relationship before, right? So how would you know you would not enjoy being in a relationship?”

You rolled your eyes at her, exasperated, as if she did not digest a single word you said. “I told you, yes, I haven’t been in a relationship before but that does not mean that I haven’t been in a situation where I got burned pretty badly. I mean, sure I never had a boyfriend before, but I’ve seen my friends be in a relationship, lose themselves in it, then be broken once the whole shit fell apart.”

“You should stop living life vicariously.”

“And you should probably stop telling me what to do about my fears.”

“Tell me the truth then. Why so adamant about not getting into a relationship?”

“The truth? I’ve no idea. I’m used to being on my own for so long that being part of a ‘couple’ or something scares me. It’s unfamiliar territory, and I’m terrible at compromise. I am a selfish person, I suppose.”

“You should probably venture out of your comfort zone, you know.”

“I know, but I have no idea how. Every time that I entertain the idea of being in a relationship, I feel as if though I’m being shackled.”

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I’ve been trying to write essays these past few days. The results? Pathetic. I mean, really.

Academic writing is not really my cup of tea. If they were to task me with writing a, I don’t know, a rant post or some type of emotional broken hearted clap trap I would be able to do that. Hell, I’ve been doing that for years. Easy-peasy, child’s play.

This whole academic, do you agree or disagree bullshit on the other hand though, I find it hard to do. I am always changing my arguments. I am usually all over the place. Sometimes I just don’t really give a fuck at all.

I know I need to pass this shit, it is a requirement for the UK nursing gig that I am doggedly pursuing. It is also expensive AF so I am not really keen on wasting money by retaking and retaking that exam.

Oh well, as the song goes: que sera, sera. Yolo bitches.

I will be taking my IELTS exam next month, and I am so damn nervous. Academic writing isn’t really my cup of tea, and I do tend to get bored on certain topics. So there’s that. Also my grammar and vocabulary is a bit rusty, thanks to all those mindless charting that I have been doing this past year.

I did enroll in a review class, last year actually, but I only attended like two classes. I don’t really know what to do, what to expect, and what to answer. So help me God.

So right now instead of reviewing I am ranting about my lack of information regarding this exam, and also how fucked up I will be. This is not new though, I am bad at coping with stress and I do get a bit self destructive. I will probably cram at about 2 weeks before the exam. Probably.

I don’t even know if the written part in the computerized exam will have a word counter of some sort because I freaking don’t know how long a 250 word count essay is, and I don’t even know if I will like the topic enough to even write about it. But I guess I just have to force myself to like it because this goddamn exam is so damn expensive that I would really feel awful if I fail.

I had too much caffeine earlier, hence the uncoherent ramblings.

How to Set Yourself up for Heartbreak: An unsolicited guide

1. Find your target. Get the wrong person, the one who sets off all the alarms in your head, the one who is as emotionally unavaible as you are. This person can be anyone: your senior at work, your friend, that totally hot tinder match you had. Anyone, really.

2. Be their friend. Go out for after work drinks, go out for dinner, drag them into the bookstore with you, go for a long drive; whatever it is, make sure that it is just the two of you. Have deep meaningful conversations with them. Listen to them talk about their latest conquest. Listen, then berate them about being a stupid douchebag.

3. Read between the lines, if there is nothing between said lines, make up something. Ask your colleagues, believe them when they say there is something. Hope that there is something.

4. Overthink. A lot. Especially that time when you thought that they were hitting on you but they backtracked and told you that everything is strictly platonic. Be both intrigued and apalled by their proposition (or what at least you thought was one). Spend days picking apart your conversations.

5. Convince yourself that everything is still within the platonic realm of relationships. Convince yourself that the giddiness you feel when you’re with them just means that they are a great friend. Convince yourself that you don’t really mind if they went out with someone else, or that they did not talk to you the whole day.

6. Fall. Fall hard, or at least feel like you are, especially when you are on your fourth bottle of beer. Watch them stay with you while you enumerate all your shortcomings to them. Hope that you won’t chase them away.

7. Dissuade yourself from falling even if you’re halfway there (or at least think you are). Convince yourself that your 9 year age gap is too much, that they are not really your type, that they sleep around too much.

8. Avoid them. Throw yourself into your work, be suddenly busy. Ignore their messages, ignore them altogether. Give short, succint, bordering on cold answers if really necessary. Keep this up until they stop pestering you.

9. Be upset that they’re now avoiding you. Convince yourself that they ghosted you too. Convince yourself that you misinterpreted things, that maybe they’re only offering you friendship. Feel bad because you lost a friend.

10. Find out that they reconnected with an old flame. Pretend that you don’t care. I mean, everything is strictly platonic, so why should you give a damn if they wanted someone to warm their cold nights?

11. Ignore the hollow feeling in your chest. Ignore the rage burning through your veins. Ignore the sound of your heart shattering. Ignore the buzzing of your mind as it looks for answers. Ignore everything.

12. Pretend that everything is peachy. Pretend that you did not singlehandedly destroyed your friendship. Pretend that nothing happened. Pretend to be fine around them, like nothing ever happened. Pretend until you go down the rabbit hole.

13. Wake up. Slap yourself if you needed to. Realize that they are not worth it. If they didn’t fall for you the way you did for them (if you fell at all), neither of you is at fault. Try to salvage the tattered remains of your friendship. Try to piece together the shards of your broken heart. Move on.

Bonus tip: repeat steps.

Smoke 

You said you hate it when my mouth tastes like cigarettes, how you can taste the ashes in my mouth as if you’re licking an ashtray. I smoked a pack after you left, and watch our memories fade away in each puff of smoke. You told me to stop back then, when you were still there to nit pick at my bad habits, told me that it’s like watching me waste away at 11 seconds per stick.

I was planning to stop, really, but then you left and I ended up counting down my life at 11 second increments. Nicotine helps calm down the mind you see, at least at the end of this pack I will be calm enough to stop blaming myself. Or maybe, at least in the back of my mind I know I’m pissing you off, a small rebellion of some sort, or maybe I’m wishing you’d be back to stop me.

After the storm

I thought that I was the storm who’s going to dissipate into thin air, leaving you with a trail of splintered memories and a flood of tears to clean up. I thought I’m the one who’s going to watch you rebuild yourself after I wrecked your peace with my presence.

was too presumptuous, too arrogant, too confident with  my sway over you. 

I  forgot about the sun. I forgot about the possibility of you chasing after the sun. I denied the possibility that maybe you’re the one who’s going to leave me all splintered and flooded.

Now you’re just a name on my list of storms. 

22

I turned 22 last Tuesday, nothing special. I didn’t even tell anyone at work. I don’t know, for me it’s just a regular day. I did try to be excited about it but nothing.

It’s my 5th month on the job, I’m tolerating it, I guess. I still think nursing is not my thing. The whole soothe your patients, take care of them gig, not really my forte. 

Patients die on my shift and I ceased feeling  anything, just blank apathy, and relief because it’s one less patient to mind. Maybe because it’s a really common thing  our ward that I got used to it. I don’t know. 

I just don’t feel anything right now. So much for 22