Sea of Bodies

Wake up,
Roll over,
Turn on that smartphone,
Information at your fingertips,
Images in a blink,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

Shut yourself in your room,
Turn on your heating,
Curl up in bed,
You can't hear the pain,
You can't see the destruction,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

You will only ever drift on the sea,
On a cruise ship,
On your daddy's yacht,
You'll only ever hunger,
When you left your cash in the car,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

Running out of resources,
Will always be an excuse,
But places like this don't understand desperation,
Lies after lies,
Excuses after excuses,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

Not enough room, not enough room,
But how can one have more right to land than another,
You'll never rot on a lorry ride,
You'll never hear your children drown,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

You'll never know the ignorance,
You'll never receive the abuse,
You'll never be excluded,
For your race or religion,
You're white and Christian, right?
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

You'll never swim in a sea of bodies,
Unless you created the massacre,
The shores are blocked by barricades of people,
But you're safe,
You're home,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

If the tables should turn,
If the place turns dismal,
If the Churches turn cold,
If the oppression is reversed,
You'll be floating in a sea of bodies,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

But when you're floating in the sea of bodies,
To whom will you turn?
The ones you shunned before?
No room, no room, no resources, no resources,
Oh golly gosh! OH blimey, folks!
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

If your child washed ashore one million miles away,
Who would cry for your child?
Did you cry for their children? Do you feel their pain now?
Are they still en route to world domination?
Do they want to steal your job?
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

Floating, drifting, body upon body,
Carcasses everywhere, are you crying for any yet?
Is that your mother sinking to the bottom?
Do you need another life jacket?
No resources, no resources,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

It can happen to anyone, any time, any place,
Bombs drop, arms trade, soldiers pace,
In an instant life can seek pastures new,
It'll be you on that boat,
Shunned from the shores,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.

Let them in,
There is enough,
Enough for me, you, them,
Open your hearts, wax your mind,
Don't let them fill your soul with the filthy excuses,
How lucky you were,
To be born in this place.









Rest in peace to the refugees who have passed away during this time of crisis. May your souls rest in peace. Those who are still in unfathomable suffering, there are people who are with you in your fight, and will stand by you.

Innocence

Lying on the snow white sand,
Bikini melting onto my womanly breasts in the sun,
Light a Spanish Marlboro gold with a girly, flowery clipper lighter,
Stare through the smoke,
Grey children dancing in the flames,
Rosy cheeks, brilliant smiles,
Teeth missing,
Better check under the pillow tonight,
Ignorance is bliss,
You're all unaware of the future,
Not so long ago,
I was the child dancing amongst the ashes,
I was the vision of innocence,
I had the gappy smile,
And the angelic blonde hair.
Back then,
I didn't know, what I know now,
Where did that innocence go?
Did I always have an ego?
Were my boobs always excessive?
Did the narcissism forever flood my veins like the black plague floods a village?
And the ones on the other side,
Did they grow up wanting to be spiteful?
Did they spend their childhood wanting to destroy another person?
Did they wet the bed, like me? Were they potty trained, too?
When did we stop being naive?
When did we begin to carry a burden on our backs?
When was the first time you cried over what someone else said about you?
What about hurt yourself?
What about ending yourself?
They took your innocence,
And you'll never have it back,
Watch the children play through your smoke screen,
Remember how simplistic it was.
Did you ever call someone fat? Did you apologise?
Did you ever shun someone for the sake of peer pressure?
Did you ever leak a naughty photo that wasn't meant for you?
Did you ever think about the consequences?
Hindsight is powerful,
More powerful than you and I together,
If we knew back then, what we know now,
Would we toss our innocence aside for the sake of boys, popularity, the friends we're scared of and actually loathe?
Would you take your panties off for that grotesque guy who was the first to tell you you were beautiful, when everyone else thought you were a monster?
Would you leak the nudes of a girl who confide in you, who trusted you, who wanted to make love to you?
Being young and innocent is not thinking about the consequences, because they don't matter when you're a toddler, you cut your knee, you get a plaster, your pencil blunts, you sharpen it,
But I find this ironic because despite there being a lack of innocence in the sense of purity, there's still a sense of innocence of immaturity, because nobody thinks about the consequences of what they do, say, feel, touch.
I lost the innocence of oblivion a long time ago, I'm aware, self aware, aware of what's said about me and who by,
I was always observant as a child, and now I pay the price,
Come off the beach, sit with a ice cream sprinkled with Haribo in a pathetic plastic cup, no thanks, a coca cola for me,
In that moment I will eat my ice cream,
And I will imagine that innocence again,
And then I will finish it,
And I will continue my revenge on those who stole it from me,
Because my pain leads to my success, my ego, my confidence, my fight,
I'm not innocent anymore but I'm something much stronger, I'm a fighter,
I'm the Big Girl that the Little Girl me would be proud of,
But those who abduct another's innocence,
What have you to be proud of?

Bad Girl

You say you're the one with the "tormented mind", but you're the one who torments the minds of others. I don't want this to turn nasty nor bitter, but if you want to make me out to be a bad girl, sans slapping my ass and pulling my hair, then so be it.

Revenge? Not my game. Cute that you see it that way though. Revenge would be me fucking someone if I wanted to hurt you, which isn't true. I don't want to hurt you, I never could hurt you. Not like you could me, where you hurt me everyday, every time you don't pick up the phone, every time you leave a text containing a thousand good byes without explanation.

Then crying myself sick because I wasn't enough to make you stay, but somehow you'd wake up and everything would be okay for another few hours.

And God, I loved it when we were cute. Those text messages are what keep me going sometimes.

So why on earth did you have to ruin it?

This wasn't me, I'm not the bad guy.

You wouldn't even kiss me, would hold my hand loose when I was dying to squeeze yours. "Don't want to get attached" you'd say, cute excuse, insufficient, though.

Because it just wasn't my lips you wanted to kiss, mine were the second best, the ones you'd kiss if she didn't want to kiss yours. You know I'd kiss at any point in time. You knew I'd be a fool just for one peck on the lips. The power of hindsight shows me how stupid it all was really. How blinded I was to stare at your lips in desperate anticipation of something that could never be mine.

And you wouldn't even hold my hand to cross the roads, not even if a car was coming. Metaphors are fun, especially when they're dark.

Don't make me out to be a bad girl. I've left you 30+ missed calls when you disappeared before. Frantic. Hysterical. Sleep comes so difficult to me in case I wake up where you don't. Then you'd come back without apology, like it didn't even fucking happen. I'd have spent hours puffing smoke into the gloomy night sky just to create a smoky silhouette of you in case there'd be no more you to exist. But you'd come back. Only to do the same the next day.

And I just wanted you to get help, I just want to be your help. But I need help too. I can't do the breathing for the both of us, though I wish I could. I know you think I'm strong but even I break.

And you just, don't want to look after me, and that's fine, but others do.

I begged to be yours, I begged, and begged. You said no, over and over. I'd ask to see you, you'd blow me off, oversleep.

I'm not yours. As much as I adore you and can love you, you can't love or adore me. You can't own me. You didn't want to.

So maybe I found myself under a duvet with another and so what? So did you, when you told me you couldn't. You couldn't hold my hand, because it was too busy being shoved up another.

You'll have no idea how much it hurt to find out in the form of a passionate blog. At least my sex wasn't scrawled across the internet and sent you. I told you straight up what was happening. If it hurt you, it wasn't supposed to.

But you can only push people so far.

I always asked where I stood, you'd tell me to move on. I did something that made me happy, and you hated it. I have the control over my life that you don't. You try to control me but I see right through it, and you hate it, don't you? Even as I'm writing this I'm on the phone to your voice mail for the seventeenth time today. Frantic. Where are you now? Are you asleep? Zombiefied? Stupefied?

My actions weren't out of revenge. They were out of selfishness, perhaps. But it's my turn to be happy for once.

And now I'm stuck in a limbo. Liminal. Should I stay or should I go? Torn between my own happiness and yours. Would you ever care for me half as much as I do for you? Or will you continue to take my feelings and turn them against me?

And while you lie sedated, I lie restless. You probably think I'm scheming, plotting my next move, I'm out to get you, am I? Don't force me to be.

And sure we'd have been cute. I would have cooked bacon all crispy for you, for me. But I can't cook bacon for someone who won't start the goddam cooker, can I?

SO slander me all over that Tumblr. Forget all the good I've done. You know I never wear underwear to bed, what a silly assumption! I've stayed up night upon night waiting on you, given you my voice to calm you, given you my time, my constant attention, advice, for you to throw it in my face.

"The circumstances are different" because it is not my tears are falling this time, it's yours.

Make me out to be a bad girl, but only within reason. I'm not your bad girl and according to you I never would be. Don't blame me for your mistakes. Accept some responsibility for once, try to win me back, or don't, but don't play the victim, not now.

A World

So it's come to this once again,
Sitting with a cigarette in an ocean of disdain,
Talking you out of a mistake,
A mistake that would destroy all in its wake,
Destroy the world as I know it,
Strip me bare and throw me into a lion pit,
Curling into a ball on my garden floor,
Imagining you lying there in a pool of gore,
Begging and pleading, but not in the way I want to be,
Just begging and pleading you to stay with me,
Sometimes you disappear,
And I'm forced to fear,
Waking up in a world that doesn't have you,
Waking up in a world that's cruel and new,
And I have to confront the nightmares,
As the ghost of you dares,
To crawl into my bed at night,
And refuses to turn out the light,
And give my nipples a cheeky bite,
To remind me that for me you couldn't fight,
Because there are a million things you have yet to see,
From this world together we can flee,
You just have to hold my hand and trust me,
Death would never be the key.
And if I should ever have to stop imagining a world without you,
And I'd have to start to confront that world 'cause its true.

I read your writing,
It's as good as mine,
But it provoked a feeling in me,
A feeling quite sublime,
Because I've been loving you too much,
And you've been needing me too little,
While I've been getting passionate over you,
You've been getting passionate over someone else,
And all the tears that I've cried,
The little ones you'll never hear,
Dropped indeed, into an ocean of disdain,
But also into a deeper sea of inner pain.
I know you hurt, but I hurt too,
I look into your eyes, your soul, but you look straight through,
I could curl up into a ball one thousand times,
I could pray for you,
I could write you rhymes,
But the way my hair falls will never be beautiful as hers,
And the way I smile won't thrill you in the same way,
And my lipstick won't disobey my lips,
Because despite my bosom, the lips I lack,
You could've cut me some slack,
I did my best for you,
But bests aren't good enough when you're at the back of the queue,
I could save your life a thousand times,
But I won't have the sweet ass like her,
I could grow my nails,
Just to rip out my heart,
Give you on your birthday,
Twelfth of June by the way,
Just to have you put it in a box,
And give it to her another day.

It's not the competition I care about,
It's the lies.
Love is difficult I get it,
But when I look into your eyes,
A thousand words plague my mind at once,
And only the dumbest escape.
I know I'm doomed,
But I flee to my fate,
Because a world without you,
Would be a world diseased with darkness.
No shared cigarettes,
Dirty, little cigarettes.
And I've been working on this writing,
For a matter of weeks,
So the rhyming pattern is distorted,
And it makes no fucking sense,
But the thought of you upsets me,
But warms me at the same time,
And I need to get it down on a dumbass blog post,
How much I pine,
How much you mean,
How little I do,
You're not the only one with a fucked up mind,
You just can't see that,
And while it's difficult for you,
It's difficult for me too,
A world without you,
Wouldn't be a world without me,
But it would be a world,
Without any chance of happiness,
Because every fucking day of my life,
I'd spend wondering what if,
And sometimes I feel like,
Walking away is the only way,
I can be safe again,
Far away, from you,
From her,
From that writing that,
Is really, very good,
And I wish,
You felt like that,
About me,
But you don't,
So maybe,
A world without you,
Won't be your choice,
But mine,
And maybe,
I will be just fine,
In a world without you,
Maybe not,
But I can't,
Feel for someone who,
Feels for someone else,
How I feel about them.

Why Voting on 7th May is Important

"One of the penalties of refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors" - Plato

"There's nobody to vote for! Nobody understands me! They are all... THE SAME!" Cries the bewildered teenager. The dreaded polling day is rapidly approaching. Everybody's talking about it, but what are they actually talking about?

Scrolling down Facebook it is abundantly clear that youths have NO idea who to vote for. I don't blame them. Politics is convoluted. The only real things we have to go by are our parents' distorted views, affected by occupation and location. Voting can be horrific. The worst phrase is "I'm not going to vote. It's not worth it."

Asking someone why they won't vote is ironically asking a politician a yes or no question. The answer is long winded, and frankly, is totally irrelevant. You end up more baffled than your initial stance. "I don't agree with the system... I'm going to boycott it!" And proving what exactly? Unless you are planning a revolution, which includes getting off your backside and actually putting something into action, you won't change anything. The system stands whether you partake or not. One way to ensure some sort of valid protest would be spoiling your polling card- not having one at all is the same as having no voice at all.

Personally, I can't wait to vote. Here's why:

• We live in a democracy. We have the right to vote. Not all countries have this right- 123 out of 196. Our system is fair and free. It can appear to be ungrateful to not vote, when so many people would love the right to.
• If more young people vote, it is more likely that we will get a Government that benefits us the most and future Governments will create policies that benefit younger people, because they know that's where a lot of votes lie.
• Especially for women, it is crucial to remember the Suffragettes who suffered in order to make a vote accessible for future women. To pass up your vote through ignorance and laziness could be deemed as disrespectful.
• Voting ensures that you've at least tried to change that your country is run if you are unhappy with it. Voting is better than doing nothing about the country you live in. Apathy is a horrific quality.
• We are representative of normal British people, the more we vote, the more likely normal people will be benefited. 

Here is an extract from the founder of www.votingcounts.org.uk, Rachael:

"Although a politician’s primary job is to run the country in reality it’s secretly more about ensuring a win in the next election (meaning lots of funding for their party) and in this difficult economic time it is important for the government to make cuts. Therefore the politicians are inclined to look and voting figures and force the biggest cuts on the demographics that don’t vote, with student and young adult figures being so low, politicians are basically given free reign to fire off policies that make us worse off, nine grand tuition fees being a prime example, they know they’re not going to lose many votes next time a general election pops its head around the corner. You never see winter fuel allowance and bus passes being cut, you know why? That’s because the over 65’s get out and vote, their figures being over 75%."

So this year, go to a polling station and do your bit for your demographic. In order to benefit, everybody must part-take. It does not take long for you to log onto a party's website and check out the policies. To make things even easier for you, I'll hyperlink them at the bottom.

Use your vote wisely.

http://www.votingcounts.org.uk/

Labour party's manifesto: http://www.labour.org.uk/manifesto

Green party's manifesto: https://www.greenparty.org.uk/we-stand-for/2015-manifesto.html

Liberal Democrat's manifesto: http://www.libdems.org.uk/manifesto

Conserative's manifesto: https://www.conservatives.com/manifesto

UKIP's manifesto: http://www.ukip.org/manifesto2015 (Remember what I said about using your vote wisely)

Happy Voting. :)

That Bloody Tampon Debate

"Girls shouldn't have to pay for tampons" a Facebook status reads. It was written by a topless, orange guy, which is quite a refreshing and different sight compared to the endless droning on the "friendzone" and how girls shouldn't sleep with guys and get their nipples out etc. However, cynical nature aside, I agree with this boy's statement, and, eager to see if anyone else does, I click on the comments. What I saw was quite horrific, and, to this day, haunts every feminine aspect about me, and makes my nipples invert in horror (I would post a picture to prove but...).

"Women should pay for tampons because guys pay for condoms." A scrawny figure in a haggard Nike cap holding a can of Strongbow affirms. I re-read it. Over. And over. People like this exist. They are walking amongst us. You may have sat next to one of the bus yesterday.

Tampons and condoms aren't within the same spectrum. It's an obvious declaration and yet one that clearly needs to be made. You choose to have sex, You choose to use a condom, You choose your methods of contraception. However, what you don't choose is when a cascade of blood plummets from your "princess parts". Furthermore, I enjoy sex. I love sex. Sex is absolutely amazing when done correctly. Periods aren't fun. You can try to make them fun, but ultimately succeed. I don't mind paying for condoms, because it's for something I have chosen and enjoy to do.

What's more though, is that condoms are free from most clinics and doctors. So in most cases, guys don't even have to buy condoms.

And in most cases (from personal experience) guys don't even supply a condom. How many times must we hear "I'll pull out", "it feels better without" or worse still "I just want to feel closer and more intimate with you". Ermm, no, put a glove on it dear. You don't have to deal with the same consequences that I do. Oh, you don't have one? NO PROBLEMO, FRIENDO.

It's not paying for tampons that I actually mind, even. I don't mind paying for manufacturing costs (ha ha as if any of the money goes there, anyway), but tampons are counted as a luxury. The fact I don't leak scarlet murder all over my cute panties isn't a luxury, its a necessity. It's almost as if those in power think I have the money to buy panties for days. Some biscuits aren't luxuries, but I'd rather indulge in a biscuit and a cup of tea than indulge in a period.

I'm intrigued as to what people feel about this, so drop a comment below to inform me. I've seen it be disputed brutally lately and wanted to voice my opinion on it. I never thought about it until I saw somebody compare tampons to condoms- such a contrast pushed me over the edge.

Lust

Finding yourself is never easy,
Especially when you try and find yourself,
In a maze, in a labyrinth of beds,
The beds of wolves, the beds of bears,
And even worse the beds of men.
One day his hand will reach out to you,
And it will glow the brightest gold that you ever saw,
So much that it's shine will blind you at first,
Oh! How the love will blind you,
And how it blinds today
And blinds, and blinds,
Destroying rationality.
Shun his hand, shut him out,
You won't make that mistake again.
Don't neglect your reason, your logic,
Just for him to strip you down.
Because one day it won't be a hand that reaches out to you,
One day it'll be an entire body,
And it won't lift you out of the maze,
Just to drop you back in it.
It'll guide you through every winding turn,
And it'll strip off your layers,
And it'll kiss your shoulders, pull your hair,
It'll get close to showing you love, but won't,
Because it knows that love isn't something to be feigned.
It won't be a wolf, it won't be a bear,
The body won't devour you at dawn,
It'll make you breakfast, not make you it's breakfast.
And the love won't come very fast,
It might come when you're doing a crossword,
Playing poker,
It might come when you're together,
Or alone.
The love might attack you in the supermarket,
"Unexpected item in bagging area" indeed.
But the love will be more tender, more profound
And it'll wrap you up in it's tender arms, hold you close, hold you dear.
The body will share your excitement on stormy nights,
Share your arousal on passionate nights,
It'll lift you high above the lust of the world below.
It'll make you see reason, it'll encourage you to say "no".
It penetrates the false, it highlights truth.
The body will love you back, more and more everyday,
It won't say good bye, it won't leave your side,
A rarity, of course.
It'll know exactly how you want to be fucked, how you want to be loved, how you like your bacon crispy, how you don't like the white of egg, how you laugh, how you cry,
It'll know the meaning of every facial expression,
It'll recite your favourite colour, film, band, book,
It'll gaze at you adoringly in it's baggy jumpers and your own knee socks,
It'll pull you closer during a fight.
It won't be violent, but will match the passion in you.
And every little lust you ever felt,
Won't even fucking matter.

Daddy

Why do I have to put up with this?
I hate that god damn look in your eye.
Why do you have to pin me down so fucking hard?
There is one hundred percent absolutely no need really.
So unnecessary. Everything about you is unnecessary.
Alright, yeah, whack the nipple clamps out, let's have a pain party.
Lie me on my back, yeah I get it it'll pinch a bit.
This isn't the doctors. Nipple clamps aren't vaccinations. We're good.
Done this a thousand times before, I know the god forsaken safe word.
Yes, yes, yes there are no boundaries when it comes to me, you adore me, blah blah blah, don't make me vomit, don't turn this night into a scat episode.
Alright yes, thank you getting the blind fold out I don't have to look you in the e- oh you're going to put it in my mouth? For fuck's sake
Say it with my eyes you tell  me
But I'm not really sure how well sarcasm and disappointment transfer in eye to eye contact.
You're enjoying it anyway, bit of missionary it'll be over soon.
No regard for doggy style. My favourite. Once again. All you, you, you.
I get it I'm a sub, do what you want, blah blah blah.
But I'm sick of submitting to someone who smells simply ghastly below his untamed snail trail.
The snails were, undoubtedly, running from that smell.
No don't pull that plait, I spent ages on that, I have a date after this.
Really? You're going to use that belt on me? But it won't even make a mark...
Have it your way, you're the boss, you're the daddy, what the fuck ever.
Yeah, yeah, yeah I'm your little girl, naughty girl, hoo haa, boo hoo, ouch no, don't that again, etc etc etc.
I'm not even going to act surprised that you bought a dildo, it's not like your member alone will suffice will it?
Look how smug you are when outside the bedroom you shit your pants at the sight of me.
We done yet?
Oh you've cum, oh well that makes one of us
... And we're not done, you're still going to use that thing on me.
Act interested, act interested, use the eyes, all about the eyes.
Can't help but stifle a smile at how hard you're trying to work oh my God.
I'm not humouring you I am just too nice for my own good, always gotta help daddy with feeling better, feeling himself, though I'd much rather you feel yourself than lose my hand in that amazon-like realm you call "a crotch"
Yes okay please get rip of these clips on my nipples
Yeah thanks for kissing it better, give me a plaster and some ice while you're there
Oh no sorry I can't have a cup of tea, I must go
Yeah sure, I'll call you, I always do, right?
Oh, dinner? Erm I don't think so
No I don't want to make a bigger deal about this
No I don't want to be any more than your slut
Sorry, yeah I never told you different
You were never anything more to me
Than a little security
When I was a little blue, a little down
Don't give me that frown
Don't meet my eye with such a countenance
You know I'm sorry, daddy
Don't punish your slut again, daddy.

Some Nights

Some nights it's like you won't ever see the light again
Like the ebony black of the night has strangled the lightest part of your soul
Like your eyes are greyer around the edges than they used to be
And your smile doesn't reach your eyes like it used to
And some nights it feels like you won't wake up at all
Like some nights its not right if you do wake up
Gosh some nights I'm burdening other people's existence
Some nights I plague my own
And some nights I get attacked by my own past
And some nights there's no where I can turn
Some nights I'm left with  keyboard and blog
And one night four years ago
I fucked up the happy future I could have had
And at the time I was so blind, so stupid
So naive,
That I couldn't and didn't know better
Entrusted myself into a man who
Called me beautiful, the first person to make me feel human, to make me feel something less than a monster
Nobody will know what it was like to be that kid
Bullied, spotty, fat, insecure, different,
I wasn't skinny, pretty or flaky like the other girls
And to this day I'm still not
I'm different
Some nights, I am that girl, watching the faces of men turn into the faces of wolves in a sheer blink of an eye,
But some nights I don't bow to he who calls me beautiful with a wink emoji
Because he's lying
I won't be that girl anymore
But frankly where I am is my own damn fault
And frankly some nights I'm sick of it, I make myself sick, and I vex myself
Some nights it's not damn fair that I get crucified for something that wasn't my sin
Some nights battling the war zone in my own mind is a fucking lost battle
Some nights I wonder why I even bother at all
Why I don't just give  in
Because frankly nobody knows what it's like to try with people
Just to get shunned because of your train wreck of a past
And I'm sick of the thoughts spiralling in my head
That people don't even know they caused
Or care that they caused
Some nights there is a hand reaching from the darkness
Telling me it's okay, asking me to come with it
But I shun it
I need to deal with myself, I won't burden anyone else, my mistake was mine, and no I don't want to share, I don't want you to fix me or save me, I'm not asking for salvation, I'm asking for you to love me as I am, but no one ever could so
I shun it away
I shun every hope and chance of getting better away
Because anybody who gets close enough,
To helping me get better
Is threatened
By the monster in me
Some nights metamorphism doesn't just exist in Gothic novels
Sometimes it exists in our mind
Some nights the monsters under our bed
Cannot possibly compete with the  ones in our head

Nice Guys Don't Even Finish

Ever been hounded consistently by a "nice guy" who "just wants a chance" with you? "Please", "just try". 

Tell me, what even is a "nice guy", because to me a nice guy is somebody who would say "fair enough" should I reject his advances and just respect my wishes.

Does anybody actually do that any more?

If I'm not interested, I am not going to pretend I am just to pity you. Why should I? Wouldn't leading you on be much worse than letting you go early? 

It's true, you may treat me right and we may have a few laughs, but the whole thing would be an act out of pity, it's not what I want, and I would not ever be truly happy. Frankly, it's time to be selfish when it comes to situations like this.

Because no girl is obliged to say "yes" to anything you request. There is a freedom of choice. I do not want to date you, and none of your begging and whining will change that. Why should I have to endure time with you that I don't want, just so you can boast about getting a date? So you feel a little less lonely? You don't want me, you want companionship, and that's not good enough. 

I hope this is not me being too empowered and heartless, but I don't understand why I should have to give somebody a chance. I don't want to, it is therefore my right not to.

Then, sometimes, they might appear to respect your request by saying "sure, we can just be friends", then add the dreaded two words "for now".

WHAT? 

No, I want to be friends. Saying stupid things like that makes me not want to be any more, though.

Then you have to hear the martyr-like declaration of "friendzoned" status. 

The friendzone does not exist.

If a girl wants to be friends, respect that. If it's too hard for you to be friends with a girl, then you aren't even man enough to have asked her out in the first place.

Yes it might hurt if you really liked her, but it's easier in the long run. Think about it, I'm sure you'd rather be let down gently now, than after a turbulent relationship that did not make her happy or like you more at all.

Why must people harass? A girl is unlikely to change her answer to a question you've asked previously 200 times. 

Guys, be a nice guy. Like an actual one. Just take rejection on the chin. Don't mention the "f" word at all costs, and don't beg and beg and beg and beg, otherwise you will get blocked, which I'm sure is the furthest from the desired outcome you could ever be.

These days, "nice guys" don't even finish last, because they don't finish at all. Having to write the term "nice guys" so many times has given me a sense of vertigo, because the phrase is so meaningless today. 

Sex

Thrusting, sweating, moaning, groaning. Bed creeks. It cracks. I crack. You crack. Deary me, how did it get like this?

Don't look me in the eyes I'm not quite ready for you to see that yet. Not ready for you to see the damage, the baggage, just slide it in and make us both have a jolly old time.

But you force me to look you in the eyes and I almost think you almost curious. Do you enjoy eye contact because it makes the sex more intense? Or do you enjoy it to know that there's someone as fucked up as you out there? I wish you'd stop trying though. Rip off all my layers, go on, I still won't be seen dead naked in front of the likes of you, dear. Rip off my skin, reach down my throat, throw out my heart, leave it bleeding and beating there, my soul won't be yours, it never will be, you will never see the bitter sweet soul behind these eyes you desire to know so much. Perhaps that makes you sad. I can't really tell, when you are ecstatic to be between my thighs.

God, I love this, though. Thighs burning up against each other, forehead to forehead, I could almost love you, I could almost scream that I do right now. Move my legs onto your shoulders, deeper now, deeper. Then I scream, not just because it ignites sensations I didn't know existed, but because you have given me a sense of salvation, you have numbed the pain, you have saved me for... 45 minutes? Kiss me on the forehead, call me a slut. Cute. 

Flip me over by my ankles, decided a better way to fuck. My favourite way, and of course you're going to pretend you knew that. Pull on my hair, that's fine I did it nicely for you, but if you're going to be like that next time I won't god damn bother. Oh! I make myself laugh "next time", Pull me up close to you, wrap your arms around me now. It's like you are protecting me, but it is too little too late. I like the feel of your arms around me, you are warm against my cold skin, my icy veins, your blood boils next to me, I can feel your pulse. You are grabbing me so hard that I know it'll bruise, but it doesn't matter. You can mark me if you really like. No love bites though, I told you I detest them.

Grip moves up, towards my neck, while one touches me in other places. Choking me, till I think I may pass out, and yet I smile. Looking up at you with lewd eyes, you smile too. That look in your eyes, though, that's love, and my eyes are swarming with lust. Hand moves back to my boobs now and I do something ridiculously out of character, I move my head backwards to kiss you, and you kiss back with a tenderness that I don't deserve and that makes me want to bow down and worship you.

Push my head back down to the pillow, probably because you're sick to death of my face, or maybe because you know I'm sick of yours. You slap my arse anyway. Yep, that's going to bruise. Hand prints all over me. I am not something to be colonised, though you appear to think differently. 

Moans muffled by the pillow, you slide out. You turn me onto my back, look at me with a menacing look in your eye. I know that look. Stuff that ridiculously large thing into my ridiculously small mouth. Shut up my moaning, satisfy your needs. I can barely breathe. I don't think you even appreciate me giving up crucial CO2 that fuels this nightmare of a life for me to suck your flavourless lollipop. Eyes smile up at you anyway, just for the hell of it. Can't ruin your most perfect night, now, can I?

Yes, thanks for that, in my eye, and in my hair. Thanks. A. Fucking. Bunch.

Wipe my face. Yeah. Thanks. Might have blinded me.

Sit down beside me. Light a cigarette. You've bought my favourite brand, you didn't forget. You don't usually smoke Marlboro Gold, I noticed that, but you must've been saving weeks for this 20 deck, deary me. Light mine for me, wink as you hand it me. Collapse onto my breasts. I play with your hair. "You're so gross and sweaty", I laugh, and you laugh too. Make some small talk, I see how nervous you are. I see right through you, dear.

Stub your cigarette out over me. Move up so our heads are level on your pillows. You look at me and tell me I'm beautiful, I smile and say thanks- it's not worth the argument. 

Remember the last time I had sex. Remember who it was. Feel tears coming on. Oh God what have I done? Curl up into your chest. You ask what's wrong. I say nothing, as I play with your belly button. You play with my hair and enquire if I'm sure. I nod. They say a part of you has to be dead inside to do stuff like this. I ask you if you think that, you say no, and that it won't end at just this. I cringe inside. 

It's not even that I'm using you, I like you, I like our times, I enjoy your company. There's a hole that needs filling, and no not even in that way, just when he left there was some of my soul that decided to run after him and leave me too. I don't know if you'll be the one to restore that yet. 

Yet lying in your arms, after countless bruises, cuts, I think I'm even bleeding and God knows when I'll be able to sit down again. I know that you care. And I'm scared that you're going to love me. And I'm scared you love the part of me that is a dream, and when the nightmare attacks you, you'll leave like the rest. I don't think you're ready for what you're getting yourself in for. Eventually you'll slap my ass harder, you'll pull my hair almost till it comes out, you'll hate me sometimes, you'll get sick of me. Then you'll leave.

And I know I'm not ready, I'm not ready. Using sex to escape the emotions that stalk me as their prey each and everyday. At least when we fuck, there is nothing but you, your smell, your face, your hair, your sweat. Thank you for being my saviour, it's a shame you'll probably be a temporary one. 

Push my head down under the covers, smile, wink, raise those immaculate eyebrows at me. Oh dear, I hate to like you. Round 2 commences. 

Untitled

There isn't a title for this one. Mainly because I've going through how to structure and phrase this blog for 2 weeks, just going round and round, following the hopeless words that whirl around my poor little head.

Because every time I think of a structure or sentence it sounds cheesy and corny and I don't want to say it but frankly I'm sick of crying myself to sleep after a fortnight of being without you.

And I don't want to sound generic or pathetic, but it's hard not to through language so poetic but if I write how I feel down on a word processed document then how I feel becomes fiction and we can all escape reality for a little while.

Because I am just so angry. So angry. I'm angry at you, I'm angry at me, I'm angry at this whole shitty thing we let ourselves get into. I'm so angry that I messed up the best thing that ever happened to me, I'm angry that you let me. I'm angry that two people who love each other more than anything can't be together any more because it got too much for one of them. I'm angry that you're gone. I'm angry at myself, my ego. Why couldn't I have been better? I'm angry I'm a nightmare, I am my own nightmares, and I can't escape them. I can't sleep now you're gone. Just constant nightmares. In them you die or you shift shape or you run away for good, and I end up screaming and crying and pleading once more and I get confused in case it is somnambulism because I wake up feeling as scared and as tired as I did before I fell asleep, I wake up still missing you, I wake up still stuck, I wake up still angry.

Before you I had lost who I was. Behind all the hate, all the pain, all the fame, all the popularity, all the stress, all the tears, I lost it. You found it again, now it's lost again and I'm trying so desperately to cling to the shreds of what is left of us because I don't want to lose that girl again. I miss being nerdy, I miss not caring, I miss waking up happy, I miss not being harassed, I miss being busy, I miss being looked after.

And I know everyone will tell us that we can do better. We both can. We probably both know this. We just don't want better. While my Facebook chats sneak into my bathroom, prick it's finger and scrawl "date me, date me, date me" all over the mirror, I'm too busy revisiting our own dates. I just don't want any one else. I think back to being in that hotel room with you, wrapped up with you in sheets so white and pure and I just want to go back to that night and back to that moment and just lie there intertwined with you forever even if we miss the check out time because checking out isn't important when I need to relinquish the feel your skin on mine.

No one has ever planned a future with me before. No one has ever made me feel like I'm worth a future. I hope our future isn't gone, because it sounded pretty great. Choking back tears because I'm losing my shit over some of the bullshit you said before you just took off and left and I just don't understand how you can do that in such a short time, relentlessly, tearing out the heart and leaving it to bleed while I look up into your eyes with the same loveful look I always conjured up when I had to look at someone I never goddamn deserved. 

And it's just over. For a while, but I think forever, I don't think you're coming back, but I really wish you would. I wake up in the night from a treacherous nightmare and I think back to New Year's when I woke up from one again next to you and I sat up and you woke up and said what's wrong and I curled up into your big lanky arms and I told you I had a bad dream and half way through telling you, I fell asleep and woke up on your chest hearing that precious heartbeat. Then I think back to earlier in that night when the countdown happened and I held your hand and I remember what I told you after all the vodka and cocktails I told you I love you and that this was our year and that we'll get through this year okay and oh my God you stupid girl why can't you take your own goddamn advice?

Even with those memories I still curl up to that Pikachu cushion and I still wish really hard it was you. Thank God writers are born with imaginations.

And oh my God, what am I to do when you forget me? You say you won't but I think you will, everybody does, I am forgettable. Who would want to remember a nightmare like me? I want to forget myself sometimes so I wouldn't force them memory of me on you again. Then you'll find another girl, and she'll be pretty, and less of a pain, she might watch anime, and she might have less stumpy fingers, and she might be a bit taller and she might buy better presents and she might have a bigger bed and not smoke or drink.

But she won't be able to ever love you half as much as I do. 

And I just really really fucking hope we get back together, because I feel lost, and as the French say "il me manque" he is missing from me, tu me manques. I feel lost and like shit, and I just want to call you mine again and hold your donny and go to pizza hut and have petty arguments over what to order and share and I'll be better.

I will be better. I promise to be better. I won't be a nightmare, I promise to be a sweet dream. You deserve all the sweet dreams.

 

Smoke

Tears down my face, lost over you again. It's been a short time, but there's been so much between us. So much passion, so much love, sometimes so much hate. It's crazy isn't it? We're both a little crazy. We're both a little fucked up. We can't live with each other, but can't live without each other. Another argument. Over what again? You're going to leave. Should you leave? Should I leave? Is this beautiful or has it lost its beauty?

Choke on my tears. Feels like I'm going to be sick. Reach for the pack of Marlboro. Close our conversation. Deliberate what to wear. It's freezing. Wear just your jumper and leopard print slippers anyway. Cold doesn't bother me, not when I'm warm from the burning flame of passion that binds us together, that's fuelled and encouraged by the bitter arguments over nothing. Your jumper, the one with "Computer Science" on. That's what I love about you, you're like the other half of me. If this were my jumper it'd have "Modern Languages" inscribed on it. Every time we have to work out a restaurant bill, you're there, Mr Arithmetic.

We've been driven apart by stuff. I'm not allowed to explicitly say what stuff so I will attempt to equivocate it to get it off my chest and stop this goddam demon dominating every inch of my conscience and soul. The cheating, the possession, the jealousy. I'm secure. Why do you try and knock my security? You're supposed to cement it, build on it, build yourself on it, build your own security. Instead you try and knock me down and pass it off as it's because you love me. Well, guess what, I hate your exes for making you who you are, and the narcissist in me hates you for punishing me for their mistakes. You say things, they're inconsiderate, do you realise the stress sometimes? You give me a flower, then moan about the flower you've given me, try and get me to stomp on it.

It's difficult now, isn't it? My, what used to be clear blue skies and sunshine has now been plagued by a storm of misfortune and distrust. We have been smitten by our own pasts. I'm depressed, I'm cynical, I'm moody, it pushes you away, you control, you get jealous, you cheat and that pushes me away. What are we to do? What are we to do? Our future is so bleak. So bleak.

I still worry you're speaking to somebody better, somebody a bit taller, somebody with less spots, who watches that anime you like, who plays more video games than me. I suck. I don't know why you're with me sometimes. Do I ever please you? Think about it.

But still here I am in your comfy university jumper, cigarette in hand. I stare to the stars that shine brightly tonight. 3% are stars, you say, the rest are satellites. Doesn't bother me as long as they're pretty. Pretty shallow of me, I guess.

Such a big, big world out there. I'm only 5"1. Problems are so small and insignificant, but yet once again I find myself sobbing and alone in freezing weather that matches the broken heart that inhabits this body. The passionate flame melts it but the ice cold blast of the arguments freeze it again and I constantly find myself hurting and being pleasured at the same time, because being with you hurts my brain, my heart and it tests my durability as a person and a lover. Purgatory is the only word I know. I'm stuck here. I'm torn. When will this get easier? Are relationships always this hard? I've only ever had a few, I have basically no experience in this area. I need help. I need assistance, but once a-goddam-gain nobody is there for me.

Come to the end of your smoke. It wasn't enough. When it's pain like this, do cigarettes ever truly suffice?