I can tell you like a certain type of women.

The ones with dark hair and dark eyebrows.

The ones who are overtly feminine

Fragile and depend on you

You won’t have to worry about them asking for nudes

They seem too polite for that

You don’t do well with the outspoken type

The ones who do not shy from the lime light

The ones who are not afraid to speak their mind and call you out on bullshit.

I was never going to be the quiet type

The one to let you behave in a manner that I did not like

I am glad you are comfortable

It must make you feel safe to with someone so familiar

How lucky you must feel to have found a girl just like your last one

How nice it all must feel.


I can’t seem to wrap my mind around the concept that when things end they cease to exist and will never advance any further. It’s why I struggle with death and relationships.

-All is well but nothing is okay

Moment of weakness 

I hesitate before opening any text message after 9:30pm.

If I hear the dogs barking I immediately check to see if your car is outside.

I should hate you but in all honesty I just wish you’d show up at my door step with any half ass excuse so I can just see your face again. 

I can’t accept the last time I saw you as the last time I will ever be wrapped in your arms. 

I know I should be stronger than this, but you made me feel so good.

You’re not easy to let go of. 


I have a lot of half started post that I never finish but I figured I’d just share a little blurb of something that’s been on my mind lately…


Nobody ever prepares you for the right guy.

The guys who listen to you when you speak,

Goes the extra mile just to see you,

The ones who attack you with cheek kisses and show their affection openly and proud.

You see I don’t know how to let a good man in

you are everything I could ever want and I don’t know what to do with that



New Year’s Eve

 I could probably write a whole novel about short lived interactions I’ve had with people. Small moments that come and go are somehow the most memorable. Yet they are the ones that often times get distorted overtime. Two people who share the same interactions can remember them completely different, neither one wrong just simply different from one another. Here’s my recollection of that night…

It was New Year’s Eve. I wore my plunging V neck dress. You had on a black leather jacket, not the ones that most people my age wear to be cool but the ones that people in their late twenties wear because its practical evening wear and doesn’t call too much attention to itself. I kept smiling because I was nervous and knew that after four dates and with it being New Year’s Eve, we would finally share our first kiss that night. 

I felt your gaze more than ever. I just kept on nervously smiling and looking away. It wasn’t until you told me that you wanted to kiss me that I pulled myself together with fake confidence and said “fine”. I had planned to be romantic and hold off on kissing you until midnight but you couldn’t wait and I was too nervous to let that weigh on me the rest of the night. I took charge, as I often do when I have no clue what I am doing. We found ourselves on the staircase. The only private place two eager young adults could find in a loud, crowded Latin club. I took your Stella and placed it on the floor next to my Tokyo tea. I wanted our hands free of distractions. This was my attempt at trying to be as romantic as one can be at a club on New Year’s Eve. It was there, at the top of a dark staircase that we shared our first kiss. Me holding onto your face,while you held me by the waist. It started off like any normal, make out session but by the end I found myself laughing because it didn’t seem to be coming to an end  and you just kept going. Eventually I pushed away to catch my breath, smiled at you and handed you your drink. For the rest of the night we kissed several more times than I can remember and you danced for the first time ever to Latin music. 

Sunday night // 9:30pm 

I want to rip you to shreds with my words. I want to not have to be nice, to not have to think the consequences through. I want to pick at your insecurities, poke them until the pressure builds. I want to be cruel, for fucks sake let me be cruel. I’m so sick and tired of always being the only one hurt.