Destined to be the other woman

I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer.
At night I fell asleep with visions of myself, dancing and laughing and crying with them.
Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour, and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times.
I was a singer. Not a very popular one,
I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.
But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I’d been living, they asked me “Why?”, but there’s no use in talking to people who have home.
They have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you lay your head.
I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean…
And if I said I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying…
Because I was born to be the other woman.
Who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.
Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

Lana Del Rey.


What if I’m destined to be the other woman? It breaks me to even have to question this but for the longest time I’ve asked myself why. Why is it that I’m not with him? Picking up groceries holding hands, planning long lead vacations on a crisp Sunday morning, and even sitting down each night with the same person breaking bread? I don’t mean that I’m the other woman to a man who’s married or even in another relationship. I just mean that I’m not the woman he spends his life with. I’m the phase. I’m the adventure until he wants steady.

It’s like I’m fucking diseased with a big fat scarlet letter slapped across my forehead that I’m not perceived as someone good enough. Someone that’s priority. Someone that he sees valuable enough to dedicated a meaningful friendship. Aside from my name, does he even know how I like my coffee? Or which way I always turn to sleep?

I don’t belong to anyone which made me belong to everyone.

Drink after drink, mistake after mistake. I reflect on the patterns and see nothing’s ever right. Bad decisions follow me like the plague, and I ride each of those waves only for a momentary gratification. The high from an addiction, telling myself I’ll be good after this one last hit.

Morning comes and he’s still in my bed; sleeping away without a care in the universe. He wakes up, holds me for a minute and walks out the door with his things.

The text doesn’t come for a few weeks, but then one night when I think I’m back on my routine, my phone beeps and I’m back here again asking myself why.


Post Breakup Coffee & Me

Then i found myself going back to the old habits.

coffee, black

tumblr, scrolling

everything went back to the way it was, except I felt emptier. Though a part of me came back and I missed the old me so much, I felt as though it wasn’t quite right anymore.

Like a chapter had been ripped out of a favorite old book.

For the longest time, I sat staring at the screen and mind numbingly passing post after post but felt nothing.

For I came back, but I lost my heart.

The breakup changed me, but it changed me for the better. I built strength in my character through the tears he made me shed. I grew wiser from the self loathing when we would fight until graveyard hours.

It’ll be a long while before I let someone in again, but I will over time. That’s the beauty of how resilient we can be when it comes to love. You’ll go back to the same routine you had with your life before you met him. Then one day, you’ll find another who’s heart beats the same rhythm. The one who’ll break down the walls and guarded heart.

Until then,

coffee, black

tumblr, scrolling.

I’m back where I’ve always been. And I missed the old me so much.



The nights you stay awake

It’s the fantasy of what could be, that pushed you over the edge.

the almost lover that rendered perfect in your eyes,

the almost friend that you pictured holding hands with until the very hands weakened with time,

the almost man you thought could save you

So you hold on to a picture perfect image of what could be

and on that string dangled in front of you was a dream you struggled to face with reality

the invisible knot you twisted to connect him to you,

nothing but a silly imagination that drove you to insanity.


This is what falling for you feels like

My heart’s never pounded so fast,

nor has it ever felt this empty.

My tongue’s never tasted so dry,

nor has it been so thirsty for another.

My head’s never been so tormented,

nor have I ever thought I’d be so happy with being so smitten.

This conundrum I have is both liberating and suffocating.

This is how I endure puppy love.

The silly moments where I am lost in lust

but found in love.


And then I lied to myself, just as I always did

I’d lie to myself the same way I’d lie to my friends.

To make them feel better during their moments of suffering. I couldn’t assuage their grief, but I could inspire courage in them to move on…

Help them ease the pain clouding their every detrimental feelings.

So I lied to myself like I had lied to them-

“It will be better, you are strong enough to withstand this”

Even though I knew very well, it doesn’t get better. It will get worse. There will come a time where I will cry longer and harder than I have now, and that’s okay. Because I would rather be hurt, cry, and eventually move on, than live through anymore toxic days without a modicum of change.

..and I’ll keep lying to myself, till things actually get better.

The phrase, “Fake it till you make it” never felt truer.


She left and I lost my home.

It hurt so much it felt like all the air was vacuumed out of my lungs.
The slightest movement a struggle.
Tears poured like hurricane as my eyes lost vision during the drive home.

What a foreign concept when love slowly eludes us.

“Home is where the heart is” they said.

So, where is home now?

My stomach had a nervous pit.
My hands shaking with anxiety.
Head spinning with fear that it was all one-sided.
All at once, it hit me.

It was one-sided.

She’ll never love me the way I loved her. I never once walked out on her, but it was so easy for her to pack up her things and walk away.

My breath of fresh air had been contaminated with her greed for the allure of others. She wanted more, and that honest truth left me feeling worthless. I couldn’t give her what she wanted because she’ll always be chasing butterflies where the grass is greener.

So where do I begin?

I found this poem maybe 7 years ago and saved it on my computer. Sharing it to the world (:

So many thoughts,

I don’t know where to begin,

I’ll start from my heart,

and what I feel within.

I still have feelings,

which haven’t changed,

because when you left me

my life was re-arranged.

I used to cry

so many times a day,

but lately those tears

have been fading away.

I am hoping that

my brighter day soon will come,

and maybe, just maybe,

I’ll find that special someone.

Yes, it’s been hard,

but I’m getting back my life,

I’ve even managed

to put away the knife.

I will find someone

who’s right for me,

who loves me

and lets me be all I can be.

Yet the thought of you and her,

is tearing me apart,

because you will always have a special place

in my broken heart.

Do I still love you?

Yes, I do,

but another part of me

is getting over you.

I never thought I would say this,

but I simply have to confess,

with each and every day that goes by,

I love you less and less.

I just wanted to be with you,

but now you’re gone,

and the time has come

for me to move on.

You meant so much to me,

in fact, you still do,

from the bottom of my heart