There’s a future version of me who’s proud I was strong enough.” 


It’s may and may it is (or it was) the time of me and E. I miss him. Not like how he is now, but how we were then. We were so in love, everything was so beautiful, he was so handsome, so kind and loving, warm, and not to mention, really hot. He was completing my sentences. He was everything to me back then. It was 10th may. He was E and he was mine and I was his. Sometimes I think we belong together, but other times I remember all the bad things in the end and it makes me physically sick. But the first months (especially the first one) were one of the most beautiful, happiest time in my life. I will always remember that. That’s why I still have a folder with every memory of him and us. Because we really loved eachother even though we were teenagers. We loved eachother, and we made terrible mistakes, but maybe in another life, we will get it together. Or maybe in this one. I really don’t know what can happen, after all I’ve been through.


10 mai 2014

Letter to my ex

“It was for the first time when you bothered me with your ignorance and lies about “us” and I didn’t give you a message. You really didn’t actually want me back and now I can see that crystal clear. I don’t even hate you anymore. I feel pitty. You lost someone who actually ate all your shits all your lies, and accept it because That’s What you do. You lie and pretend and always will. I’m not saying you are a bad person. I am saying that you can’t control your fucking lies. You say you’re amazing and the boss and you do everything perfectly but in your heart you do not believe it. Because you just talk you but don’t do shit. And That’s ok. I am not judging. I loved you for some time, and I knew that if we stay long enough together you would see you do not have to pretend with me. 

You say love is free and you are letting me go free while loving me. That’s bullshit and you knew it from the moment your words escaped your mouth. 

I feel sorry for myself too because I fought AGAIN for someone who didn’t deserve my love. It’s pathetic for YOU. You let go of something amazing and if you will not regret it, it just means I was nothing to you. Only skin. And that isn’t a great surprise. 

I picked the wrong people to love. 

But now I start a new life, I changed again so much, I actually try to make a living. To make something happen. To push myself to do everything I was so scared of doing. I do that now. I am not perfect and I make mistakes, but at least I wake up in the morning and I move my ass and do it. I try. 

The sad part is that I always thought you will be there, at least as a friend. But you weren’t. I was so tired last night from all the work and pressure I had on myself, and I just wanted to talk to someone familiar, someone who would care about me. But you didn’t give me a single sign. You are pathetic making people believe you love them. I feel sorry for you of how you changed (or actually Maybe you were like this all this time). You didn’t love me. Ever. You just pretended it. Go Fuck yourself for waisting my time and heart on you. I could have done so much more in this time. 

Have a nice whatever and Hopefully you won’t be the biggest *ick and coward with the Next girl you will pretend to have something for her.”

“I want to let go of the pain I carry but I lit the cigarette and once more I was ablaze. I cannot rid of you, you are in my fucking veins and I wish I could carve you out with the blade I thought was in my hands the whole time. So I learn to live with you. I learn to avoid the cigarettes you tasted of and the cologne you wore that danced with the smell of the smoke. I avoid your road even if I want to run to your house and scream, scream until my lungs collapse, until my pain becomes yours. You destroyed me and it’s a new year but that means fuck all in the grand scheme of things. I’m still that little naive 15 year old who wanted nothing more than to be loved and feel loved. That little 15 year old who had lost her two best friends and was absolutely fucking alone in the world. That little 15 year old who was drowning in a cocktail of anxiety, depression and ridiculous amounts of self destruction. That little 15 year old who thought she had the power but turns out you had the razor and you cut me open until I was nothing but dust.”

I want to be a writer. It’s one of the greatest jobs for me. I want to live, to experience it, to ask people about their latest kiss and their reason to stay alive, I want to play with words, I want art, I want to write about love until God can’t create any other words for me to describe it. I want really good chaos and create bomb memories, which I can translate into poems.  

I want to be a writer because this is the only job I can have and still do all these stuff. 

Maybe I should. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I don’t give a single fuck because I’m 20 and I want to write and this is what I am going to do. 

How stupid am I? I actually see with how many girls you talk to, I see how you ask them out, I see how I am not “enough” for you. I actually saw how you told a girl that she was the one that understands you. Not me. 

You don’t talk about me. I am not on your mind. This is so stupid. Why I was putting my heart for someone who doesn’t want me?

You don’t even see me. You only see you. You don’t think team-love. You think you and the hottest girls you can fuck or talk to. 

I need equality. I don’t want to hear every minute how you are so great and I am not. That the mistakes I make, you don’t. The fuck?!

And the worst of all, you lie to me. You always lied to me. Your best friend actually said that you like the girl in your class. The one that you put a bet you can Fuck her first out of all the boys. The girl you told me 3 months ago that you didn’t care about. You didn’t even thought of her. Bullshit. 

You may want to appreciate me. You may want to actually tell me the truth. Because I am so good at loving people. But I made too many times the mistake to put my heart out and let it be crushed by the other. 

You hurt me even if I am so strong now that I barely feel it. But before I sleep, I cry because only then I think about everything. About the truth. The rest of the time I try to see the good in people. Maybe too often. 

Don’t hurt me anymore. Or let me go. Or love me how you should. Or do anything, But don’t hurt me because I don’t deserve it. And I might just leave if you keep pushing my heart to explode because of pain. 

I love this feeling. He tells me that the grey stuff that makes everything blurry it is the snow. I ran to the window and I saw it. It is snowing heavily and I am transported in the times when I was little and everything was so simple. I would go outside and made snow angels and then smile all night at the beauty of nature. Now I am sitting with him while he smokes his cigarette and even though I know life is beautiful now, there are some complications. Complications of every 20 years old human. Now I know that I need to be present and not worry. But sometimes it is so smoothing to remember the better days, the most beautiful simple memories. That is the beauty of them. The simplity they have.