After a few spliffs, shots of hard liquor, several painfully loud tracks and harbored indescribable emotions, it results in awkward, unintelligible excerpts by a twenty-something year-old girl that constantly thinks about food, sex, art, music and more food. Oh, and (occasionally) you.

a l w a y s


We spent a summer on her balcony, chain smoking into the early hours of the morning, talking about taking over the world and what adventures we would embark on together. I loved her and she loved me too, but we never talked about it. We could both feel it, yet we never said a thing to each other.

And now she’s gone and we are no longer together.

We’re on separate paths and I keep trying to hold onto this string between her and I, dragging along a huge piece of our history behind us – despite being worlds apart – to have some kind of closure, but she’s moved on to better things.

So am I, but I’ll keep her in my heart and memories. Always.

I’m so happy for her. I hope she doesn’t replace me in her heart because no one could replace her in mine. 

t r a p p e d

He was one hard pill to swallow, and he was one regretful, unforgettable night with her head in the toilet, expelling the contents of everything the pill released through her pulsing veins.

She’s never been bitter about anyone or anything until he decided to touch her soul and ruin her. She was a free spirit; a wanderess. She was never one to settle, to never invest, to never be tied down. But suddenly, she found herself locked unwillingly in a cage, fighting to break through the indestructible bars with her weak fists. He was the captor and she was the victim. But she cared for him and she didn’t care how much it killed her to be trapped, even when he couldn’t give two fucks about her.

Being trapped began to drain her of her free spirit nature. She soon became introverted and locked away – cold, distant, and bitter. She’s never been like this before.

She was tainted by his poison and there was no antidote to save her from the wrenching pain it was causing her muscles. But, she believed he was the cure to the pain he was causing her.

Love shouldn’t feel like this.

“It’s not love.” She murmured to herself.

Delusional and masochistic. That’s what she was. She clung onto dear life to something she so badly wanted that the only rational way to explain her addiction to this pain was ‘love’. But it isn’t.

a n g e l

Brown eyes, unruly curly brown hair, an innocent grin and dark ripped jeans with a cigarette between his lips.
That’s how I remembered that the devil could be disguised as an angel
Because an angel would never cause this much pain to someone’s soul.

f r o m m e t o y o u



How do you discuss a topic on an extremely vague, controversial and bitter-sweet feeling? It’s four letters, one word, minuscule almost – however, it’s one of the most overrated and underrated experiences someone goes through at least once in their lifetime. Everyone has different perceptions of love and they all go through it very differently in several ways. Whether you’re still in love, whether it ended badly or faded into nothing, whether you’re experiencing something unrequited, it’s an experience we all find ourselves lost and inevitably invested in for a long time.

We’ve all heard, watched, and read about love and they all either seem cliché, unattainable, completely ridiculous or maybe even hopeful. We have our own stories and each are very unique but we tend to keep these details to ourselves. It’s almost as if we retell these stories, we feel that the last bit of love we have left in us may slip through our fingers and never come back. That will only happen if you let it.

I’ve never been one to talk about my experiences with love, but I did indulge in posting on social media of my prior relationship from time to time and gushed about it in my journals, just like a love-stricken teenager would. A quite conventional high school sweetheart love story, but there is so much more to it than meets the eye. It’s a story that requires a lot of closure and an ear to listen to its jumbled mess. That’s why I’m writing this to you. You may have heard different versions of our story, whether from him or through the grapevine, but this is mine.

Let me tell you about the only boy I have ever loved.

He and I never really talked until a friend of mine asked him for advice to go about expressing his feelings for me and possibly ensue a relationship. The whole scenario backfired and I fell for him instead. Damn, I fell hard for those blue eyes of his, too.

It was an extremely cold day in December ’09 and I remember that we clutched onto each other for warmth at a bus stop a little past the train tracks outside of our neighbourhood. We could see our breath passing through the little space we had between us and we joked about smoking and talked about the little things in life, keeping ourselves warm with laughter as we froze our nips off waiting for the bus in the snow.

I didn’t know if my cheeks were red from the cold or from him. And my cheeks never turn red unless I’m inebriated. I just remembered that all I wanted to do was to be close to him, no matter how small the gesture or plans were. I think I loved him before I even realized I was capable of loving someone.

We were two completely different people – almost polar opposites of each other, but somehow we gravitated towards each other, despite the circumstances.

We were like complementary colours, directly opposite of each other on the colour wheel. He was green and I was red and somewhere amongst the mess we made of mixing with each other, we found love. (FYI: Green and red do not mix well nor does the mixture make a pretty colour. It makes an ugly brown.) Yet, the two colours, together, somehow complement each other, especially during the holidays. You know that feeling you get during Christmas time? The unexplainable happiness, nostalgia, love and excitement? It felt like that every time I was with him. I was happy. I was so, so happy.

Green has always been associated with ‘go’, the forest, nature, and peacefulness. It’s a positive colour and it resonated well as red’s complementary colour. However, red has always been associated with ‘stop’, warning, blood, and anger. It’s a negative colour and somehow, even though I was red, I still managed to reel someone who was green towards me.

People were drawn to him. Me, not so much. Somehow, he was drawn to me and taught me how to love unconditionally and he loved me unconditionally. I was very hard to love and be with, but he stayed. He stayed with me for five years.

He and I both grew up together during those five years, and little did we know, we slowly started growing apart as we became adults. I changed almost completely. With everything that happened to me during that time, I’m still surprised he wanted to be with me through all that.

I spent every Christmas, Easter, Canada Day, birthday (even his siblings and parents’ birthdays), and any holiday you could think of, with him and his family. I was so invested and in love with him and his family that we became a family. I never once questioned my love for them (To this day, I’ll always love them and care about them, even if they hate me now). I couldn’t even imagine a life without him and his family until my colour started changing. From red, to blue, to purple, to a colour that has a fucked up name – a colour that no longer resonated with green. His colour never wavered once because he just grew into a more deeper shade of green.

That’s how I wanted to grow: stable and confident in the colour I radiated. I was incapable of that because I was constantly unsure and in doubt about everything. I never really knew who I was when I was with him. All I knew was that I loved him and wanted to be with him, so I put my entire heart, soul and being into our relationship to the point that I completely forgot who I was, as an individual; as a human being. I became a lifeless, lost soul that only knew how to love him, but not myself. How could I love someone I barely knew?

Towards the last year of our relationship, I noticed how corrupted our communication with each other became. We talked at each other, but not with each other. We would bottle everything up and it would fill up until it exploded, making the mess even harder to fix. Insecurities became prominent and we started to be more distant, even if we spent 90% of our time together. We started to be unappreciative of each other. We took each other for granted. We hurt each other, but we never talked about it. We pretended everything was okay, right until the end. It was too late at that point. Our colours no longer resonated.

Our love seemed beautifully flawless before all that. Almost like a ’90s television show. We were definitely not Cory and Topanga from Boy Meets World, but fuck, we were pretty damn close. I wanted to marry him and at some point, I know he wanted to marry me, too.

Not all beautiful things have a happy ending. Not all relationships are guaranteed a forever. Not all first loves will be your last, but it will be the last time you will feel everything like this for the first time. We always told each other that we would love each other forever, but it doesn’t mean that we would be together forever. In this time of our lives, being together, and pardon my lack of knowledge of math, is just like geometry. We are like two perpendicular lines – crossing each other at one point of our lives, but possibly never again. I’m grateful that we were never two parallel lines with one another, because I wouldn’t be the person I am today if we never crossed.

Our story could be an entire novel, but not everyone needs to know the intricate details of our little story. He was once mine and I was once his and we loved each other until the universe decided it was time for us to be apart so we could find the strength to finally love our own selves, as separate beings.

He will always hold a special place in my heart and I hope I do for him as well.

Thank you for everything, blue. Thank you for being unapologetically yourself when you were with me. You taught me so much about myself and about life that I never knew until I met you.

I really hope you and your family are doing well. Please, take care. We’ll see each other again one day.

Yours sincerely,


P.S: I will still send you stupid memes about Drake, ridiculous gifs of Kanye, and gush about our love for pizza and poutine because you’re still the only one that gets me, even at weird hours of the day.

P.P.S: My mom says hi and wants to invite you to eat Mandarin with us sometime. She hopes you’re doing well, too.

s o u l m a t e s

I’ve never been one to believe in soul mates, but that was before I learned that it’s more than a romantic relationship; a lover; a life partner; a spouse. Everyone’s definition of a soul mate is different, but here is mine.

A soul mate is beyond romance. It is a connection between souls that the universe created – a connection that is almost indescribable in words. It’s described in feeling, energy, and connection; you will just know when you find them. You are given this one-of-a-kind magnetism and there is someone out there that radiates the same kind of magnetism that pulls you together, regardless of how many times you are pulled apart. You gravitate towards that other person, with no discrimination against gender, race, orientation, or anything for that matter. That is your soul mate. You will know when you meet them and they will know it too.

I met my soul mate a long time ago and we were pulled a part. Life couldn’t keep us together under certain circumstances and we were too young to realize that we were soul mates at the time. However, the universe decided that our gravitational forces were too close to keep us a part for that long, so our souls found each other on Earth and our magnetism attracted one another, and I found her again. She found me again. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

I never realized that we were soul mates for the longest time until I came to terms with the fact that a soul mate wasn’t always necessarily romantic. I used to believe the notion that my soul mate had to be someone I was involved with that was more than platonic.

The way I see it, right now, is that I still have so much to learn about this magnetism between her and I. The connection is unfathomable, but that’s why ‘soul mates’ is an extremely vague, open-ended topic. It’s indescribable in words.

All I know is that I just love her and she loves me, against all odds. And I thank the universe for this constant in my life, because I’ve finally found my soul mate.

c h o k e

She’s never been one to wear fancy jewellery.

But she will wear your hand around her neck like the several pairs of chokers she owns
In hopes that you’ll suffocate her with your love, lust, frustration and desperation;

Bruising the absolute fuck out of her skin and her heart
And leaving your marks all over her delicate body while fucking her one last time.

All in the delusion that you branded her and now she is artificially yours
Because the only time she loves pain is when it comes from your hands and your mind.

c i g a r e t t e

I’ve been unbelievably self destructive the last few months, whether or not I’d like to admit it. I am highly aware of what I’m doing to myself but I can’t stop – I’ve been going in a downward spiral and I’ve just been sitting there, watching myself deteriorate and waste away, but only because I want to wilt away like the ashes of a wasted cigarette and fade into the wind.

A spark, the insatiable burn, the inevitable disintegration, the deathly toxicity, and then it just hits the end of the cigarette and I’m thrown away. A sad addiction, a slow death, a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, and the light-headedness that comes along with the abundance of chemicals flowing through a bit of tobacco.

How can something so little be so deathly? How can we romanticize something that eats you up alive on the inside until you can’t handle it anymore?

Feeling like a cigarette pack with the warnings plastered all over the package, being passed around and smoked by many people feeling the same, addicted to something that will slowly kill you one day. And we can’t stop.

It’s killing me emotionally and physically and at this point I don’t give a fuck and it worries me. I’m turning into the person I never wanted to be. I never imagined myself even becoming this person when I was younger. Oh, the naivety.

And when the loneliness that hits after the light-headedness and nausea is over takes a toll on my mind and soul indefinitely.

“Loneliness? How?! You have friends and family! All your loved ones are there!”

Just because you are surrounded by people doesn’t mean that you won’t feel alone. Take in the fact of how those people treat you, how you’re feeling and how suffocating it is to be surrounded by people who are happier than you, trying to make you feel better but that nagging feeling won’t leave you alone, so it makes you feel worse. Especially when your loneliness starts affecting your loved ones.

Just like smoking. The addiction starts wearing you down. Your breathing becomes haggard and your voice starts to become more hoarse the more you smoke. The smoke affects those around you as well, even though they aren’t directly smoking the cigarettes.

I rarely ever talk about my problems, but I guess that’s why I write. Not wanting to bother anyone with such minuscule problems. It’s actually beneficial that most people I know don’t read my writing. It’s my way of bottling it all up and then fucking running to the middle of no where and screaming my heart out until I can’t take it anymore. It’s gone to a point where I can’t even cry anymore.

I guess I’ll go back to smoking away my problems and hope it will all disappear, just like everyone else has. I’m too fucked up for this place anyways.

b u r n

I remember it burned. Each kiss you planted on my frail skin burned.

As deceiving as those velvet lips were trailing up my bruised thighs, it soothed the ache in my bones for your touch; there was a burning sensation within me that was and is inextinguishable. From you.

You murmured sweet nothings into my skin before I fell asleep on your heaving chest, my hand perfectly placed over your heart, your fingers running through my hair and our legs tangled together under the sheets in sweet, intoxicating bliss.

This is only temporary. I thought, finding myself awake in the early hours of the morning, snuggled into your chest and your arm thrown over me. I basked in that moment before we both rolled away from each other on the opposite sides of your bed. You, sound asleep. I, wide awake.

It is temporary. I slowly sat up, gathering my things and weaving through the deafening silence of your house, finding an escape within this empty void that disguised itself in intoxication. I tried to find an escape within something I considered an escape from the loneliness of my life.

I want to forget this. Because I don’t want to feel the burning sensation of your ghostly touch over my body. I may hold a stoic and indestructible outward persona but inside, I’ve been melted by the fire you started; burned down to ashes.

I will indulge in others to put out this fire. However, it’s not that easy. I cannot heal the burns you left behind – the burns you left have scarred me to the point that I cannot completely forget your existence. Now, it’s only hidden under the touch of several others; you’re the foundation to anyone else who tries to extinguish the flame. The only thing in my mind would be the scars. From you.

I’d rather burn in your flames than drown in someone else’s ocean, trying to get rid of you in my system. To flood out the undying forest fire in my soul with thundering downpour would be a waste of time – I’ll never forget the moment you clasped your hand around my neck and breathed fire into my lungs the moment our lips touched. It burned.

And I wanted it to burn.

p a s t

When the past comes back into your life,
Just to become the past once again.

When everything is completely reversed and perverse
And the past’s words become like silk and knives at the same time.

Coated with the allure of mystery and endearment
And the enchantment that was left on me never left,

As for the flame they started in me in the past is now flickering
Once again.

Bright, ecstatic and full of energy,
The past knows how to manipulate a vulnerable mind.

Forlorn, naive and foolish as I am,
I fell back into that trap, lured in by the sweetness of the bitter candy the past held between their lips.

And right before claiming that candy,
The past retracted and tore away my soul in the process,

Back to an empty encasement, looking for the means to fill the void once again.

i d o n ‘ t c a r e

I’ve gone through so many emotions
from, “Fuck, I can’t stop feeling this way. This debilitating feeling.”
Then it goes in full circle everyday.

The instability of my emotions are unbearable and inevitable.
It’s almost as if I want to be fickle,
But my heart won’t let me become such as.

I don’t care.
I don’t.
I can’t.
I won’t.
But I do.
And I want to care.
And I really don’t want to.

Occupying my brain with social media, several bags of crisps and alcohol
which is the worst toxicity of every person’s entire mental and emotional structure,
But I still find myself going back to this.

I wish I didn’t feel as much as I do.
I wish I was numb again to everything.
I wish I didn’t feel a thing.

I need to stop caring so much.

Fuck it.

I don’t fucking care.