A Little Honey For My Heart

Just your untypical youth, in so many words. Content unrestricted.

Do you like you?

You don’t have to try so hard
You don’t have to, give it all away
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don’t have to change a single thing

Wait a second,
Why, should you care, what they think of you
When you’re all alone, by yourself, do you like you?
Do you like you?

I cried and i cried hard.

In fact, i’m still crying and i can’t stop. I used to love me but it’s all gone and the problem isn’t that i try too hard. The problem is that i feel like i’m not trying hard enough. The song speaks volumes to me and i relate to it in the deepest recesses of my being but at the same time, i don’t think i’ll ever take any advice from it. To not try would be to completely lose myself more than i already have, to stop trying would be indirect suicide, to my health to my social life to my confidence to my self-esteem. I have to try, i have to keep going because what will happen to me if i don’t? Will i fall into a deeper slump than already am in?

I’ve had body image problems for as long as i could remember. I’ve been on a diet from as early as i was taught that carbohydrates are what makes you pack the pounds. I remember going into my teens and looking at my face close up in the mirror and worrying that no guy would ever kiss me because of how hideous my skin was. Recently, my dressing table light broke and it was a few weeks before i actually got around to having it repaired. During the time in the middle before i had it fixed, i’d gotten used to doing my makeup next to my window on my table with the help of a small handheld mirror because of the natural lighting. And then my dressing table light got fixed and yet i still found myself sticking to that tiny mirror and avoiding it. I think somehow along the way i’d gotten accustomed to only seeing small portions of myself at a time under bad lighting and the thought of being able to see the entire upper half of my body under harsh lighting frightened me. The blemishes, the scars, the pimples, my chapped lips, all over my cheeks and neck, my fat jaw and my thick almost non-existent neck and my chin, it all just disgusted me and i didn’t/don’t want to see it.

The problem is i need to change every single thing before my life can officially start. And i’m afraid that if i start loving myself, my flaws will cease to exist in my eyes and i’ll never reach my destination. I’m afraid to give my natural self the time of day because she doesn’t deserve it for not trying hard enough.

Let your hair down
Take a breath
Look into the mirror, at yourself
Don’t you like you?

No. And i don’t want to.





Edit: I don’t mean to sound so dark but that’s just  how i see things most of the time. But here is a song that i can imagine myself relating to just as well on better days. Enjoy!

Do you think i’m fake? Cause i don’t #breakingitdownforyou

I don’t think i’m fake at all– temperamental yes, fake? No.

I believe that every person is multi-faceted and comes with their own set of faults and habits and when i don’t like it, i say it and i talk about it. So you could say that i’m even more honest and loyal than most people in that i address their cons and their annoying quirks and yet i can still put it to one side and continue being even stronger friends than we were before– after getting it out of my system. How i feel about that person today may not be what i feel in a week’s time or even tomorrow and that’s the truth. I’m not about to throw our friendship away and give you the permanent stink eye just because i said i don’t like the pompous way that you say “coffee”. But idk maybe some saints don’t share the same opinion and think that once you have a bad thought about someone it’s best that you move on and look for someone new to latch on. Spoiler alert: I don’t think that way.

Talking about things is my coping mechanism. It recharges me and enables me to deal with your shit with a fresh face everyday. Plus, what exactly is the difference between someone like me who rants about someone or something to a confidante and the next girl who bitches and subtweets fit to bust on their twitter feed? Idek can someone explain?

I’m the type of person who can’t keep it in. I have to let things out. When i try to suppress things, that’s when the shit hits the fan big time. Some people just don’t let room for your opinions because they’re too stuck in their own little world so there’s no point bringing it up with them because they’re defensive as fuck so i keep it in and i keep it in and when i can’t keep it in any longer: a) i either explode which makes things even more complicated because i don’t like to mend things or b) i cut of all contact when i can no longer stand you.

Some people think i’m a bitch because well, i bitch and i bitch hard. But i see it differently in that, if i stick around, that means that there’s more to you than what i bitch about. I’m not going to sit there and praise your name and thank God for bringing you into my life because a) that goes without saying and b) where’s the fun in that? But what i do bitch about, that only makes up a small part of the people that i choose to keep in my life and actually make an active effort to stick around in their lives. I genuinely love my friends and when it comes down to it, i would go a long way to be with them and help them out in times of need. Don’t tell anyone though, we don’t want any heart attacks. Plus they should know it by now and if they don’t, well maybe we should reconsider a lot of things.

And then there’s the space aspect. I deal with some people differently. Some people just call for a timeout. Like, there are some people who i can’t live without (i.e. my boyfriend, my best friend, my close friends– and f.y.i. all of them annoy me at some point throughout life too and if you think otherwise and that friendships are a smooth course that should only be dealt with one way, then you, my friend, are the fake one here). Then there are people that i prefer to face once every two weeks and then there are the people whom i’d only like to see once in three months– oh that is a thing, i assure you. These people, i meet them once in a blue moon and i leave them feeling like i have had enough of them in the last three hours to last me the next 100 days. They can’t understand why but i do and frankly speaking, that’s all that matters. And to be even more honest, they make amazing talking points over dinner. You bitch about my bitching and yet, bitches enjoy it like no other. Face it, a lot of people rely on me to do their bitching for them. All their suppressed emotions and thoughts?

Yeah, i said it but you were totally thinking it.

So who’s fake now?

Choo choo, mofos

I feel like i’m having writer’s block.

It’s weird because i’ve only been writing on here but perhaps that’s the very reason causing this block. I haven’t written much formal material in the past month or so. I’ve always found it harder to write without guidelines and as sporadic as i enjoy being most of the time, i do find myself leaning more towards guidelines and conventions. There are some drafts that i have yet to publish, in some i talk about dealing with my grandfather’s cancer (spoiler: i don’t), or some frustration that i’m in the process of overcoming, or just a line or three about how i’m doing in general and some beauty products that i’ve been using. Most of them are only about 3/4 done and i write them mostly when my thoughts and sentiments can no longer be contained in the recesses of my mind. Then when all my steam runs out eventually the posts just tend to drag on without feeling and i can’t bring myself to post them because i feel like they’re no longer relevant and i don’t want to send out things that i don’t feel very strongly about. I don’t want my readers to get the second best of me. It makes me feel detached from my words.

This space is special, it isn’t like Instagram i can’t just #latepost it half arsedly and expect it to be alright. And i’m feeling so bloody mopey today. No, really, i’m on my period.

That’s all for now. This train has run out of steam once again.


All the things I feel

I feel a lot of things. You may put it down to my upcoming period and you may put it down to the fact that I have too much time on my hands. In which both cases, you’d be right. And yet you’d also be wrong because I have always been like this. But circumstances have a way of dumbing things down or playing things way up in its own very convenient way.

I don’t want to talk about it, just because doing so makes it real. And being the superwoman that I think I am, I always keep it in and I simmer it and I simmer it because I think it will eventually evaporate into a mere puff of toxic air. And toxic air I can bear. I keep it in because I believe it will go away because things always work out in the end.

But what I cannot bear lingers and it lingers deep. It lingers and backfires into a thick, heavy upwelling of molasses which eventually congeals into an impenetrable surface, like a pill in a body which takes seven years to digest.

“Why don’t you do what makes you happy?” (such an innocent request to take forgranted)

And I want to type in long sentences which will form into nice, neat lengthy paragraphs which goes against my long standing habit of writing in stanzas when I am upset only because this time it’s different. This time I want my words to be comforted, I want my words to be enfolded and embraced and to be part of a group even if it is a squeeze. I want my words to be what its author can’t be and won’t let be. My words will be confident and eloquent and worked to its full potential and made to be whatever it was born and set out to be. 


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