I wish I could've stolen a kiss. You have the most beautiful eyes, and an even more beautiful spirit. Sitting beside you in silence has been the best first date I've ever had. It's strange, but that's when I knew you were someone special. In the middle of a global pandemic unable to touch with 2 metres closing in between us, I felt butterflies in my stomach once again. I'm realy happy to have met you. Although many friends have attempted to reassure me many times that I won't have to settle for someone or be alone forever, you made me realize that someone like you actually does exists. I don't know much about you, but the little I do know made me hopeful. You made me feel alive. I wish the best for you and I hope you ultimately choose to give me a chance with you. All in divine timing, you once said. I'll carry that with me as I await the verdict on your relationship with this lovely lady who waltzed back into your life. Until then, I'll have to keep looking.

i don't know why you've been on my mind lately. i've since been able to stomach the idea that i won't find someone like you. it was expected. i'm aware that you're not unique. there's a million versions of you running through my mind, and a million more that i've crossed in my daily life, but i'm fighting a cold, my thoughts, and my feelings and i don't have the guts to fight tonight. you left, and took with you, the heart of a 24 year old me. come to think of it, maybe that's what i'm really missing. unfortunately, whether i miss you or the heart, the result is the same: i still think about us from time to time. i've been reminded over and over not to dwell on regrets, can i just dwell on your aging face? let's not get back together and borrow each other's mind for a bit; we are overdue. the library is about to close and you are my favourite book. all this to say, I love you; don't ever change.

I fought for attention; then in 1st grade I fought for my curiosity; then in 2nd grade I fought for answers; then in 3rd grade I fought for stability; then in 4th grade I fought against my demons; then in 5/6th grade I fought for my happiness; then in 7/8th grade I fought for my friendships; then in 9th grade I fought to find myself; then in 10th I fought for my passions; then in 11th grade I fought for my sanity; then in 12th grade I fought for my life; then in the 1st year of college I fought for stability again; then I fought to prove myself to you; then I fought for love and failed; then I fought for my education and failed; then I fought for my job and failed; now I fight for my freedom. I fought so much, and you were not aware. I cried. I felt shame. I broke down the wall, and welcomed my anger. I cried. I felt guilt. I hate you. I hate that you made me fight so much. I hate that I seemed so strong that my feelings were allowed to be dismissed, by you, but mostly by me.

Nothing. That's what I told myself happened in my life. As far as I remembered it was uneventful, not the happiest upbringing, but never terrible. I knew my parents loved me and, every beatings I got, I deserved. I was familiar with hunger, but I never really knew hunger. I had access to an education. Sometimes, I even had friends, like really close friends. I never met my grandparents, but I had a family and they always did their best. When the therapist said: "So, you're angry," in a matter-of-fact tone, my kneejerk reaction was to respond: "No!" in an assertive tone, slipping a hint of anger. "I had everything I ever needed," I added firmly. "How could I ever be angry at my parents? It wasn't their fault that I didn't have everthing I ever wanted, at least I got everything I ever needed. They worked really hard to provide for me. They aren't perfect, but I'll ride or die for my family, no matter what. That's the kind of daughter that I am." I am dying for you, fam.

I travel alone. I started doing this about 4 years ago. At first, it was short trips and then it was other countries. Eventually it was just my preferred method of travel. I love the independence, but I hate the looks I get when I tell people. "Oh! You're visiting a friend there?" "No. I don't know anyone there and I'm not meeting anyone there. I am going alone." That look. Also, the loss for words. It makes me feel like I am not part of them and only an outsider would behave in my way. I know that it isn't strange, but it hurts not to belong. When will that longing to belong end? I'm thinking of moving away, but I am terrified that it won't change anything. What can I do now about this? Is it all in my head, or is it simply a matter of changing my mind set? Can it really be that simple? If I don't feel like I belong, does that mean that I don't love myself or the people? Germany was beautiful. People were very nice and helpful even if I couldn't speak German. I learned so much. I definitely want to explore more of the country one day, and a lot more of mine as well. I also want to fall in love. I want to start with a hobby. Auf Wiedersehen!

I remember this place. It's the place where I shared my deepest thoughts. The ones you don't even tell your closest being whoever or whatever it might be. I have a story, but this time I'll try to steer away from the abstract and the metaphors, but old habits die hard. You know, can't teach an old bitch new tricks and all that nonsense. I was dating this man. He made me feel safe, but not wanted. This might be weird, but that's what I wanted in a man after the one that got away made me feel wanted, but never safe. My ex never abused me, but I just never felt safe to be myself with him. It probably explains why he never made me cum. Anyway, this new man, he had the potential to make me cum and more... However, we encountered ruffled feathers. He was shy to reveal that he had been married before, he hinted that he was a broken soul for a while after the divorce, his relationship with his father hadn't always been ideal...There's more, but it's not for me to air out his dirty laundry, so I'll share mine. I am also a broken soul. I dropped out of college because I couldn't study anymore. I skipped all my exams and procrastinated on my assignments; as well as taking advantage of compassionate professors. It wasn't intentional, but I lost the will to put effort in everything and to add irony to the mix, I was...nope, I am still afraid of dying. I am in limbo. I recently quit my job because I was unhappy. That's such a lame excuse, but it was either the job or my life. I took the decision almost the same way that I took the decision to quit school. I was walking over an overpass and I told myself that it would be so easy to jump. I should've? Nope, it's not a guaranteed death. There's nothing wrong with me. I just thought I'd have it made by now, or dead by my own hands after failing to answer: "what's left to be done?" [...] I keep reminding myself that I'm not suicidal because I haven't hit rock bottom. I have a great life, yet I find myself reluctantly leading it there until I remember my fear of dying and ambition starts kicking in. My friends, unknowingly, keep reminding me of my potential. I hate that word. I always did, but it's not just my potential that I love. It's myself and all my flaws and they suck that too. They tell me that I am wise, so why don't I use that wisdom? So here I am. I am dating this man. He doesn't have any idea who I am, and he's being vulnerable with me. He opens up about his past and his problems and I play the supportive role. So when he swears at me, I just take it. When he holds me tight in his arms, I just take it. When he freaks out at me for not ensuring him that he didn't hurt me, I just take it. When he tells me that he just wants to see where this goes, I just take it. Commitment scares me too. When he tells he that he simply wanted to vant out his frustrations with the way I acted, I just take it. When he smiles, I just take it. When he f**ks me, I just enjoy it. When he tells me he's afraid of loosing me, I just believe him. When he asks me to like him with his flaws, I just try it. Finally, when he told me that he is literally broken and that it is triggered by people leaving him, I just left him. I think therefore I am a bitch. P.S. I realize there was no story, but I just wrote what was incoherently in my mind. I apologize. I'm sure I'll have actual stories once I comeback from Germany.

i am attracted to you because you're unavailable. i love unavailable men. that's just one of the many reasons i must stop longing for you, such as: you don't care about me; you still love your last love; i am simply there. you think you can manipulate me; you believe i still like you; i must prove you wrong. you took advantage of me, you avoided me, you broke me, you look down on me, you pity me? i pity you. i can't make you forget her. you'll live with the idealist view of her, the one that still cares about you.as for me, i won't care about you anymore, but i wonder...do they know? this won't happen again.

as you try to piece together the series of feelings that brought you to this moment, you realize that those feelings just don’t equate the sense of shame, self-hate, and resentment you feel. by then, it’s too late to stop—you’ve already reached the moment. the moment when you’re looking at your body being used by another; the moment you’ve detached yourself from the act; the moment where you’re feeling yourself being penetrated; the moment where the friction between your legs just stopped being enjoyable; the moment you realize, it was never meant to be. you were never meant to act this way, but you’ve choreographed the play that brought you to this bed. you’ve conversed, you’ve agreed, you’ve given consent. yes, this was not a story of rape. no, this is your fault. pinned in this moment, you let him finish. meanwhile, your mind mind replays the previous moments where you could’ve stopped yourself from getting here. on repeat, you let out a calculated moan to convince yourself yourself that this is what you need. you curse your reason for not falling for it knowing damn well that somewhere during the night you lost your ability to reason. yet now you know. it came to you like a distant memory. in and out, then out again and in deeper...into your consciousness until you clearly remembered, in this moment, that you did not lose your ability to reason tonight. reason was ignored; tonight, you really needed to suppress what was raging inside your heart in any way you could. you caught the wrong feelings and those started weeks/months ago and tonight, despite your efforts, the man inside you was the wrong man at the right place, because the right man was at a girl’s place. the shame, the self-hate, the resentment...the friction, this is all your fault, but the pity, the only feeling that brought you to this moment, that was him. no, i never grew up.

That feeling you get when you realize that your are like everyone else, and that alienation that you've felt all your life is simple a segment of your imagination. Why would your mind decide that you deserve to be different, what survival advantage do you get from thinking that you're unique? That doesn't make you better than everyone else. Sometimes, I understand video games' point systems. We all get the same points to spend accross many different interests. The wisest puts their points in self-relience. Thinking that you're the only reason you're miserable is a bit sado-masochist, no? That's why I'm different.

i don't know what it is about star-crossed lovers that makes them so empathetic. do we enjoy the longing for love—when the hurt, the idea that you will never be together, becomes the comfort? the thought of love flourishing should be a wonderful sight, yet all i can see is the future heartache and the destruction of my lovers, perfect as they came. scared that i'll ruin them. scared that i'll hate them. simply scared, scared that i'll lose them. because you can't lose what you never had, and yet, you can't have what you never wanted to lose. i'm trying to understand. i'm trying to see why do we long to be lonely—the companion of death. must it always end like romeo and juliette? i'm not ready for the grim reaper, still, he could be my lover and a good one at that! i don't know. when did i forget to love?

when you're in my shoes you have no time to mourn your tumor, you just keep on going hoping it doesn't hold you back. the future won't be bleak iff you don't let it. peace

i ask because i care: "what's the point of making lists, after lists if you'll barely cross anything off of it? do you like looking at your failures? " and i guess i live through life a denial after another.

i feel like i have a purpose yet, i feel that if i fulfill it, the end will soon follow. this is all to say that i am afraid of the end. when will this fear prevent me from living. & yes, i miss you—dead or alive.

attention is what i always longed for, yet i've disconnected myself from my friends for a week and i haven't heard anything from anyone. i didn't know what i wanted to prove myself but all i can say is that i'm happy. all the attention i needed and will ever need must come primarily from within. upon this realization, i will motivate myself.

friendship is a complicated thing. i'm starting to wonder if it's because i was lucky in my youth, or that perhaps i didn't stick around long enough to find out my friend's true colours that i didn't realize this sooner. my present friends seem to leave me slightly confused about what a friendship is really supposed to be. i often find myself questioning my social abilities, often looking over my shoulder to ponder what they're discussing behind my back which, although not evil, isn't theirs to discuss. it often leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. i love when they make me laugh, i hate it when they make feel guilty because of it. i love it when they comfort me, i hate it when they say it's my fault in the first place. i love it when we play, i hate it when we talk. i love it when they make me feel part of something, i hate it when they ask me why i still don't have a boyfriend as if just me didn't justify my being. i realize, i'm not enough so they suck me dry.i used to value puzzles, now i'm willing to exchange this jigsaw friendship for anything. besides, i already know what the picture will look like: guilt. after all the shit i've been through in my life, i'll spare what's left of me. i know i deserve at least that. thanks.

because the nights are long this time of year. and also because i feel so alone—since i don't deal with rejection very well and i don't appreciate the "privilege" of being used. no matter how often i reach the bottom, it seems i can't get over the taste of the ground. i always find new bottoms to lie, asleep in comfortable self-pity, living in a rut with my faeces. yeah, happy new year diary-a.

facebook asked me what's on my mind. there are two things: 1) it's crazy how things are so meticulously connected and 2) how certain things are still better off learned face-to-face rather than on the internet.

i am deadly afraid of people not keeping their promises, or at least, the things i thought were promised to me such as respect and a certain loyalty. it seems that loyalty and honour has been eradicated from our society, or at least my circle of friends.

i walked, and i walked. the tears would come eventually i said to myself, i can't keep suppressing myself at the expense of others. yet, this time i must. when friendship is at stake and there isn't much of it around, one must be careful. to fall or not to fall; the answer has always been not to do so. can i do it all again and shut myself up? can i sincerely be happy for them, keep a straight face, knowing that somewhere in me, i hoped it would be me smiling in his arms? i don't know about sincerity since i've long lost the meaning, but i've mastered shutting myself up. i'm lazy therefore, i can't walk towards sincerity so i took the easiest road and went towards the top of mont-royal—there i cried alone.

my famous last words that were written reflected not what happened, nor what i wanted to happen, but a segment of my imagination where i am not myself because often, who i am is contradictory to what i want. i don't break hearts other then mine, i am not lustful, and i don't lie to people. that said, i do love him, just not the way he wants me to. i realize that now, and forever after... Now, how do i go about telling him that?!