Acceptance vs. Change

I don’t accept this

I don’t accept that this is how I am

How I was meant to be

I will change me

I will mend this broken heart with these clumsy hands

And if I should drop it

Better my hands than yours

Personal · Poetry



He says I do not think for myself

Perhaps he’s right

Perhaps I present to him a blank canvas

To fill with his words, wants, desires, dreams, disappointments

Paint me, make me, shape me, mold me, break me



Love me.


First Kiss

“And how do I kiss”, she stammered out.

He leaned in ever so slightly, bringing with him a waft of chocolate as his lips twitched and he murmured, “You kiss as if you’ve never been kissed before.” She blushed and averted his eyes, refusing to admit he’d hit the nail on the head.

Another whiff of chocolate had her glancing up and meeting his knowing gaze. Mischief sparkled in his eyes. His lips curved into an evil smile as he replied, “Perhaps I should give you a real kiss then.”


My Enemy

It waits. It listens. It stalks.

It pounces. It attacks. It devours.

If I had to describe my depression/anxiety, I’d describe it as a gaping maw waiting for me, waiting to devour me, to drag me asunder.

It attacks out of nowhere, destroying an innocuous moment.

I just wish I could be normal. Sane.

I wish my mind wasn’t out to destroy me.

I have so many scars, physical, emotional, and mental. I’ve opened myself to so many people, only to be left out in the cold.

I wish I couldn’t feel.


I kind of don’t know what to say after that. My depression is hitting hard. I always wonder what life would be like for those I care about if I weren’t in theirs. I know mine would be a lot more bleak.

I just wish I could undo all the damage that has been done. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be in my skin, in my mind, in my life.

Some things are ruined for me and I  mourn their loss so keenly. At times like this, I hate him. I wonder if I’d feel better if he were rotting in a prison cell somewhere. If I came to him, damaged as I am, forced him to see what he’s done to me, would he care? Would it matter, would it change anything if he showed a sliver of remorse?

No. I don’t think it would.


Childish Reflections

“One ought to hold on to one’s heart; for if one lets it go, one soon loses control of the head too.”
―Friedrich Nietzsche

I’m lonley. And depressed.

I don’t know why I stay most of the time.

My younger sister, my absolute other half, is in Texas with my mom. Most of my friends have drifted off and doing their own thing. I think that if I hadn’t met Garrett when I did, I may have slit my wrists a long time ago.

I think what I value the most is the companionship. I know in my heart of hearts that this isn’t going anywhere but I don’t want to be alone. Many times I’ve been on the verge of giving up and he’s beeen the voice of reason that brought me back. He’s become my rock.

I’ve been alone for so long, dealing with my abuse on my own, its nice to have someone to distract me from all that. He helps bring me out of my headspace. . . . . But at what expense?

Am I happy? Life is making it harder to say yes, to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think my PMS sends my depression and mood swings into overdrive. I get really depressed close to around that time. But that logic doesn’t make the thoughts go away or cause them to lose their validity. I just only mediate on them when I’m upset. Otherwise, they’re just lurking in my subconscious, waiting to be given voice. I realize that I bottle a lot of things. It’s unhealthy but how else am I supposed to stay sane?

“It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.”
― Philip K. Dick


Set #4

I’m back at it with the Q&A! Ask me things, y’all. Here’s my fourth set of questions.


#1. How long was your longest relationship?

My current relationship is my longest relationship. It’ll be two years next week.

#2. How many times have you had your heart broken?

So much seriousness. The times that I’ve counted as truly being heart broken, not teenage puppy love heart broken, it’s been about 3. Unfortunately, all by the same person. I’m a sucker for punishment, I guess.

#3. If you were going to change your name, what would you change it to?

Nadia, Aviva, or Emilia. Those are my top three choices.

#4. What’s a quirk of yours?

Hmm. I don’t like to drink after people, even my significant other, who I’ve swapped saliva with. I don’t like sharing drinks. It seems more gross than kissing. I also bite my nails.

#5. If you could buy any car right now, what would it be?

I think I want a Volkswagen Passat 2016. I drove one as a rental and it was very nice. I wouldn’t want to buy a car that I’ve never driven before. An Audi would be nice, even though I’ve never driven one before.

#6. If you could be anything, career wise, what would it be?

A bestselling author or an actress.

#7. What is your Myers-Briggs Type personality?


#8. What’s your favorite type of dessert?

I love me some apple pie.

#9. What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?

French Vanilla. I’m boring.

#10. How long have you been at your current job?

A little over a year. I made manager, y’all.




Personal · Snippets

A Mirage

“I knew I couldn’t keep you.” Unshed tears filled her eyes.

She thought back to a conversation they’d had not too long ago, that in hindsight should have been a sign of the end.

“What do you want?” He asked with concern in his eyes.

“You”, she replied.

A quizzical expression crossed his face. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

She wanted to say, “No, you’re not. You’re here physically but in actuality you’re a million miles away.” She held tongue. He wouldn’t get it, just like he didn’t get it then.

But sometimes, she thought, he was there with her. He’d look at her as if seeing her after a long seperation. He’d see her, truly. And it felt so good to be seen. It seemed as if everyone but him looked right through, as if she was made of air.