It was the intoxication for you that made me realize that I’ve been getting drunk of the wrong things for way to long

I’ve been sober before your lips, before your hands on my hips

You made me rethink the concept of being in a state sobriety

Because I would always see my self staring at the end of a bottle for a daring push into the world of extraordinary cliches to feel a sense of normalcy, different than awkward social convention I shoved myself into 

But then I found myself drinking you, and felt at ease, felt at peace

Because liquor isn’t supposed to transform you

It’s supposed to bring out your truest shade out form the shadows

Shadows that were born out of the constricted norms embedded into my mind before I could even think about playing with my barbie dolls

And then I drank a tangy mixture of cheap vodka, expensive self-derailemt and an aftertaste of a misplaced childhood.

And for the first time in my predetermined existence

For the first time in my etiquette driven, formulaic personality

For the first time my mask fell of my face

Tumbled down on to the floor

And fell between your fingertips

For the first time I wasn’t afraid of pain

I found comfort in the scars you left on my neck

Open wounds that got infected with delusions and ill-adviced caresses

Because with every stroke they became deeper

And now here I stand

That result of your carnage

Battered black and blue but holding on to your control over me


Waiting for you to bite deeper into me until I’m lost in my own oblivion

Only to find myself in your arms

Wanting to feel weak again

Craving the hangover 

A Wall

“We build a wall around our hearts and then wonder why nobody loves us”

Am i the only one who can se whats wrong with this quote? I mean, people who have never loved and want to be loved wouldn’t just hide away behind bullet proof glass, they would go out to chase the illusion they have of what love is.

We, the broken hearted, the unfortunate turned cynics, know that when we decide to build a wall around our hearts, the soul purpose is not not be loved o even mingle with the illusion of love, because that is all it is, an illusion. It is something so perfect that it can only be left to movies, books and songs; when love is taken to reality it becomes like everything touched by human hands, something that is just MESSED UP.

To be honest, I have failed to meet a couple that makes me truly say they love each other. One comes close though, and the way they act makes it seem like their not even together. Kind of ironic that they really do seem to care about each other, unlike many couples who can’t keep of each other and are together because they love what they think they have, but really, their not in love. Confusing, yes; true, of course.

Again, everything humans seem to touch or put into practice, turns into mush. If love was really all it is cracked up to be, a guy would realize that if a woman leaves her boyfriend for him, she’s worth it, because she thinks, at least thought, he was worth it. If love was really like it seems to be in books, when a girl that has history with a guy texts him the day he breaks up with his girlfriend, it wouldn’t just be a coincidence, it would have some sort of meaning to the both of them. But love is only an ideal, like any great theory, it only works on paper.

I’m not saying it doesn’t exist. I know of people who love each other unconditionally, no matter the distance, the history, the family or the race. There are people who somehow find that novel worthy relationship who are married for 40 years and drink Gin every single friday, get drunk and make a night of it. There are people who know each other inside out, who finish each others sentences, who know exactly what the other is thinking just by looking at them, these lucky ones exist.

I had the privilege of being “in love”, o some sort of moderation of real love, but I realized that it was not what i thought it would be. It was not what I read about in countless books or cried over in many movies, and I was disappointed. I then realized that I wanted something more, I wanted something worth reading about. So the wall I have built up is for someone to actually climb over and crumble it down from the inside. For someone to make me see the outside world and to feel a love that is actually worth feeling.

Until then, I have decided I will continue to be just a person, content where she’s at. Trying to avoid drama and not searching endlessly for someone to climb the wall, because, well, love that is worth writing about is never planned, is never imagined; it just happens.