Category: Relationships

Only Love

I don’t forgive you but I still love you,
It’s only that love that I want to give you,
I won’t hurt you, or abandon you,
I’ll always be there for you,
Do anything for you.
It seems you just don’t want me to.
I have scars on my soul because of you.
You hurt me so much but what hurts me still
Is that you won’t let me talk to you.
I have so much love in my heart to give you,
To give everyone.
But no one wants me to.
I would do anything for any of you,
If you were sad I would cry with you.
I’d feel your pain as though it were my own,
And I would hold you in my arms as long as you wanted me to.
Why won’t you let me?

I don’t have room for hate in my heart,
I try but despite everything I just can’t hate you.
Some part of me does, that’s true.
But the moment you say you’re ready
I will throw that part away all for you,
But you never will, will you?



In my lowest days, I feel so incredibly alone and unwanted. Something in me tells me that I mean nothing to the world, that I have no worth, that I might as well have never existed because I’m just not enough of anything to have any impact on anyone’s life.

I feel useless because I can’t make proper conversation because I get too nervous. But also because I have nothing to say that anyone would be interested to hear.

No wonder the only man who’s ever paid any attention to me, the only person I’ve ever cared about in that way, the only person who’s ever liked me enough to make me their girlfriend, dumped me after only a few months. I don’t blame him. I’m boring as fuck. What could I really give him other than my body? Nothing. I have nothing. I am nothing.

I have so few people who really care about me. I feel so alone. If I was falling, who would run across the country, across the town, even, to catch me? No one. I have no one. I’m so alone. No one loves me because I am nothing. You can’t love nothing.

I am so jealous of people who have a group of friends. True I have a few friends, scattered about, but for a long time I’ve wanted something more. I’ve wanted a group of people who hang out together all the time, who have a group chat, who message each other constantly, who all love each other.

But I’ll never have that. Never. Who would want me?

When he broke up with me, when he told me that he didn’t want me anymore, he said that we never talked about anything meaningful. That I couldn’t talk about the things he wanted to talk about.

I know that he wasn’t deliberately trying to hurt me, he was just being honest about how he felt. Like I am now. But even though I don’t want him anymore either, and I really shouldn’t care what he thinks of me, I just can’t shake what he said to me that night, because it’s true. I couldn’t talk to him about the things he wanted to talk about. I can’t talk to anyone about anything. Polite small talk is fine, but beyond that…? What do I have that I can say? I have barely any interests or hobbies to talk about. Nothing interests me anymore. I’m empty.

I don’t live; I exist. All I’m doing with my life is whiling away the hours until one day I’ll die, alone, having achieved nothing. My family will go to my funeral out of obligation, bound to me by blood that they couldn’t change if they tried. There’ll be few friends. Maybe there’ll be some tears. But what is there about me really to miss?



Regret is a terrible feeling.

You’ve done what you’ve done and you can’t change it for anything. But you desperately wish that you could.

You wonder why you even did it, why you were so stupid. With the light of hindsight shining on that moment, you know what you should have done, or rather what you shouldn’t have done, and it seems so obvious. Why couldn’t you see?

What would have happened if you’d done the right thing? Would life be so much simpler now? Would the tears rolling down your cheeks cease to exist?

In your mind you see a different present, a different future, altered by that key moment. One different decision; a very different outcome. That reality is so close, so similar but so unattainable because you can’t go back and do it again.

Regret can be crippling, and guilt often accompanies it. You might see yourself differently for the way you behaved, that thing you might have said or did but didn’t mean. Why did you do it? What did you think it would achieve? How can I take it back?

Regret is awful. And futile.

I regret the things I said to my ex-boyfriend after I broke up; I feel deep guilt about them (see my post about that here). Remembering those words I said make me question who I really am. I’ve always wanted to be known as that nice girl, the one who’s really kind and helpful and would never be mean to anyone, and now I’ve proved that I’m not the person I want to be and to some extent thought I was. I don’t know why I thought it was okay to say what I said, or what I thought it would achieve. I wish I hadn’t said it, because then I wouldn’t be constantly worried about how much he dislikes me, what he thinks of me.

But life would not be perfect even if I hadn’t had said them. We would still be broken up, and we still would need a break from each other. He may not dislike me as much as he does now, but he still wouldn’t love me or care for me in the way I wanted him to. I have apologised for what I said, but I cannot change it. I regret it, yes, but that destructive conversation was not the only thing which drove us apart.

You may think that that one thing you regret is the reason for your suffering, but the present is shaped by countless different things. Changing one single thing will not change the future.

It’s easier said than done, but whatever you did, learn from your regret, and do not repeat that mistake, but do not grieve what would most likely have not happened anyway. Do not grieve an idealised vision of reality, because reality is never ideal.

And most importantly, you are who you are. Those who can’t deal with that aren’t worth your time.


Untitled Poem

I was nothing,

Drowning in misery,
A pit of shame,
My river of sorrow.
Drowning on my own.
And I welcomed it.

Soul crying, weeping,
Reaching out for you.
I needed you.
But you weren’t there.
I was empty,
Where are you?

But I am not alone.
I am not yours to own.
I have hearts which will reach back to mine with open arms
When I want them most.
Waiting for me,
Caring for me.
The way you don’t.

And so now I know
That next time my heart is breaking itself
And I am drowning in my own tears,
That pit of shame,
That river of sorrow,
I won’t be crying out for
Someone who won’t
Be there to listen.

Stretching Elastic

I pull away from you, pulling, pulling, further. Away. The bond between us, connecting you and I, the one that will always be there, that cannot be erased, tightens. Pulls me back. It doesn’t want us to be apart.

Those memories keep us together. We will always be together, in those memories, at least. And as I try to pull away, they get stronger and stronger, tighter, tauter, like stretching elastic.

I am further away from you. I think about you less and less. I have other people who do want me, who I can talk to, who I can see. Time is passing, and I am healing, moving on from you.

But as I need you less and less, I want you more and more.

That bond is reaching its breaking point. If I keep pulling, it will either snap, and I will be free of you, or I will be sent flying back to you.

Let me in.

Make it so I can stop pulling. So we can be close, but not too close. So that our pain will heal, but our happiness remain.

This elastic doesn’t have to break. We don’t have to be broken.

Let me in.


I am ridden with guilt and longing.

The breakup between my boyfriend and I got quite messy quite quickly. It’s my fault.

The breakup seemed to come out of nowhere – or rather, to me, it did come out of nowhere – and I just couldn’t understand that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. We both wanted to try to still be friends, but he wanted a break first. But I didn’t understand. I couldn’t comprehend that he was now not my boyfriend, that he would be just the same as everyone else to me, and that I would just be one of his many friends. We would have memories, of course, but the future between us was no different to anyone else. Having been so close the months we were together, with him becoming my closest confident, someone I felt no shame with, who I could open up to completely, who I had nothing to hide with, the idea of suddenly, out of the blue, not talking to him at all was something that my mind could just not cope with.

So I pushed him to talk to me, have little conversations over text, silly little chats which meant nothing but, to me, meant everything. Because it was him. Even if I couldn’t kiss him, stroke his hair, hold my hand against his cheek and stare into his amazing blue eyes – with little golden bands around the pupils which shone in the sunlight, making them so unique, so magical, so him – I thought that I didn’t care because he would still be there for me.

But after talking for a while, I realised that I had been lying to myself the last few days. I still wanted him. I wasn’t okay with breaking up. I needed him.

Continue reading “Guilt”

Just Friends

I long for the day when this heaviness will lift
When the pain will shift
Into happiness, into freedom, into joy.
When we can be friends, just friends,
And when we care for each other again,
And let the hatred and anger fly free.

Am I being naïve?
Maybe it will never leave.
Maybe I am dead to you and
Maybe one day you will be dead to me.
Maybe you’re right and we shouldn’t try,
Because I know that at times it will make us cry.
But I love you, and I need you,
As a friend, I now see.
I love you.
As a friend.
But do you love me?