Letting Go

I know you won’t even look at me now,

Is your heart broken like mine?

Is that the only thing we share now?

Pieces of something that was so whole?

We had our flaws, I know,

But I had the happiest times with you.

I belonged.

I had a chance at being normal with you.

But love can’t change our past,

No matter how much,

Only we can, individually, as us.

And I couldn’t be what you wanted,

You couldn’t be what I needed –

We lost each other in mixed messages of blood.

I’m just so sorry it had to hurt so much,

I’m sorry he did this to us.

I really wish you understood,

But we went through the same thing, separately,

And it changed the both of us.

I don’t know if you’ll ever allow yourself to see it through me,

But I hope you know, it was out of my control;

I guess that’s what hurts more,

And more,

Because that’s what gives me peace.

——

It’s so sad to say,

But I would have sold my soul for an eighth of you to stay.

——

I’m not interested in being perfect,

Or being your trophy.

I’m real, I’ve lived, I’ve loved.

I breathe, my body moves when it’s nourished, shown love,

I touch myself to the thought of us.

Respect, lust, I sew them together in a strangers toothbrush –

A soft animal under the sheets, sacred to the touch

when needs be, somewhere no man can reach me.

I listen to my body you see, it speaks to me.

I’m human,

It’s okay if that’s not what you want,

I’m sorry you hate yourself so much

Truly, really, I hope you heal.

I’m not an idea, or a criteria,

I’m not your doll, you creep.

I talk, just like you. Hell, even better;

Is it that which scares you? That I need nothing from you?

Personal insecurity turned into hate,

True power seen in another and then labelled as a woman.

I can exist on my own,

Don’t waste your breath trying to bring me to my knees,

Iron versus steel.

——-

I’ve fought my whole life.

Against everything, everyone.

Perhaps if I had not put so much of myself in you,

I could do more, be more, see more.

Fight against more,

Rage on with this war.

But I put so much of myself in you,

And I’m tired now. I’m tired.

I want protection, and safety,

Hard boiled eggs and fields,

Sesame seeds and honey hair.

I don’t even recognise myself anymore,

She was so strong, just like fire,

A bear, a warrior, a menace who you would not mess with.

And now I am the mess you are with,

Do you still know who I am too?

Do I still smell like me, or is that gone too?

Do I weigh the same? Do I feel the same?

Do you still want to make love to me?

Yes – he said – you did what you had to do,

You can come home now,

Let life in.

I’ll miss her, what a tornado she is, was, gone with the wind.

But you’re beautiful now, with your pale skin,

I can see your eyes clearly now,

How blue, how proper, how prim,

How deep and lonely, how open they are to swim.

I can touch your skin, without burning, without hurting.

And it’s so soft Liv,

You are more you than you ever have been

And my god what a woman she is.

———

We all want time to slow down,

But no one will sit with themselves;

That’s when time ceases to exist, I’ve found,

When you do just exist, and sit with yourself.

——-

I’m running out of versions to hate of myself.

Does that mean I’m closer to who I really am?

Or more lost than ever?

Is it true what they say?

If lost, it can be found?

——-

Goodbye, so long

I wonder if you still think about me,

Even though the past is way past us,

Swallowed and eaten up.

And it’s not that I’d want you to touch my skin,

Or warm me up;

But I was so young,

And it was probably love.

I don’t even want you to think of me,

I want you to forget about me –

Look at you, where you can’t see me

So it goes back to the way it was.

I think you hurt me so much,

You’ll always somehow be around.

And I’m not interested anymore in pretending you don’t exist,

That I’m angry at you and all you did –

It’s exhausting, it’s not me:

I always cared so much.

I just don’t want you to know I exist,

Can you do that much?

Leave me be?

Know that I loved you, and it wasn’t enough;

I’m tired and I’ve tried enough so let it go.

Love her, and leave me, again, but for me, not you, again.

I don’t need to know anymore,

Peace won, and hope lost.

It was ours though, wasn’t it J?

At the time, that sucked.

Now it’s just, fitting.

All I can do is describe it,

This sphere we both have, hidden in our back pockets,

Full of sunlight and white sheets,

Sweat from the sun and love.

Tears, that I’m not sure were real or not,

So much love, and somehow not enough.

And underneath, fear and hurt and two strangers who didn’t know much.

Because even though I knew a you, far away from them, we live in a real world,

And we found us, in between time, above the sky –

Somewhere in the midst of you and I,

We created something that will stay exactly as it was.

Maybe that’s just because it was left so abruptly,

Like how we’re here one moment, and then not,

Not knowing how to process death

So we just remember, and remember them,

Till we can’t remember voices or touch –

And then left with a mirror image of those that we loved.

Maybe it’s because we both placed it on a shelf, it was treasured so much.

Maybe we could talk to each other with honesty, and cry together, laugh about how young we were. Give each other a hug.

But you treated me so badly,

And I can’t wait anymore.

Enough is enough.

I’m not sure how things would be if I really moved on,

I don’t think it would matter much.

Tealights

So much has been taken I’m not sure what’s left.

I wish I had realised what I’d had before I gave more up

To a thief in my bed.

How bright I was, how human to the touch.

So much life coursing through these veins,

so much to give, so much potential to lead life with.

Innocent, untouched.

But you don’t come out of battle as you go in.

I thought change was supposed to be a gift?

I was so careless, how careless.

Shell of the person I used to be? Or just grey?

Maybe it was my youth,

But I’m still too young to be this old,

Too soft to be this hard.

It’s true, I’m scarred,

But amongst all this loss, there’s more.

More light,

More art,

More care.

Something deeper there.

So although I’ve given up skyscrapers for country skies,

And hands for hugs,

Many for one,

I know peace.

I’ll know more peace than I’ve ever known,

I’ll be able to feel whole,

At home.

Through

Because making him regret, won’t make him change,

won’t make him stay.

Showing him how you tie your hair and hold your stare,

Will only keep him from the truth;

That he’s not man enough for you,

Or not full enough to love you too.

More time will only ruin you,

Let him go, and choose you –

Is what the woman in me would have told me, you, her, she too.

But it’s not what we do, is it?

Me and you?

We kill ourselves telling ourselves we’ll save the other,

But then one more is lost

And another light is under the cover.

Please love you, so you can love him too,

the one who wants to be loved as much as you.

Papers Under Tea Mugs

You spoke to my worst fears, and made them come true. I wish you would have just said, “This is the hold I have on you.” I wished you had told me it was not love, that it had nothing to do with this electricity every time our skin touched. I wished you had told me who I thought you were, was no where near close, that it wasn’t that I wasn’t enough, just the fact I was too human for you to ever love – and you, not enough. I wished you had told me I had gotten pain confused with pleasure, and that shame is invading your truth. I wish that you had just said something.

And I wish, I wish you had woken up a little earlier that day, so I wouldn’t have fallen in love with your sleeping face. I wish that you hadn’t held my hand to our favourite song, and put your fingers through my hair the way you did. I wish you had actually left me on the first date, when you went to get drinks. I wish that I had never made that stupid compliment, so you would let me in. I wish with all of my heart, you aren’t what you are.

– The real you is between fear and insolence.

– I’ve seen both ends of the vine. So let me spend the rest of my time, trying to get to the middle, until death pays back life.

– Blue eyes, clear smiles,

Safety and no rainy days.

Pleasure, treasure chests

Tight hugs and memories, always.

Thank you for showing me fullness

And simplicity in living.

– It went as quickly as it came, but there was enough in the midst of it all to last a lifetime.

– I’m not sure what it’s all for when remembering the good memories hurts so much too.

– Time goes slow when I’m waiting for you,

And we should all fear what happens when we break the universes’s rules.

– We can’t ask people to love us past who they are.

– And we have different songs that remind us of us,

No shared ones,

Such different memories in our hearts. In our bones.

Such different visions when we look at the stars,

not even miles apart.

I thought I let you go some time ago,

How am I holding onto a mere moment with you

When so much has happened in between?

The past is so present yet it’s nowhere to be seen?

I guess that’s what happens when it hasn’t ended in the heart,

Who forever thinks he’s a child even when his age rips his strings apart.

But it is over isn’t it? When all you have is the past?

When moving on keeps your forever apart.

It will be different this time:

I will truly leave you,

I will not be here when years have past.

You’ll even find the love I had for you, left, to the right of everything you did wrong

I won’t let you be with me again, even if you’re on your knees,

Without that love you’re a stranger to me.

What could be is not more important that has been,

You can have forgiveness but not me,

You are still worthy but not of me.

What you did burnt every other chance.

Letting go is not good enough this time,

I could look at you, and have no idea who you are

That, that is where we are at.

– You know I used to think that moment where I missed you,

Even though we were together,

Meant that I loved you.

But now I wander,

And wonder if I was a little ahead of you,

Still there with you,

Knowing you wouldn’t be there,

Knowing, somehow, this was our last night.

If that’s true,

Oh I was right.

Or loving you always meant losing you,

That still hurts at night.

– A little bit of boringness for all the things that I’ll gain, a little bit of exhilaration for all the things I’ll lose?

– Everybody, everything can be understood, but it’s not for everyone to understand.

Viola’s Gravity

She was everything I wanted to be,

Maybe even some of me:

Noyes’ Bess captured my silly 10 year-old heart,

No wonder love was always so dark.

Ruthless and fierce, the kind of passion that poisons

Then heals.

Smarter than boys, adults, the lot.

Calculated but kind, hard but soft,

And.

It should be and. Why the hell not?

I never understood why I could not be both,

When we are skin and bone, human and soul.

Her jewels were my pinks,

Her stuborness, my kicks.

And underneath it all, rage at the unfairness of the world.

Whatever she chose, she wanted to be the master of her own fate.

Viola’s gravity, at the bottom of the lake.

Fleeting Fights

1). Only time I think about you is when I think of how I haven’t thought of you.

2). How is it that I miss you,

Without missing you?

Want you, without wanting you?

All I need to do is say no,

But how is one thing, a million things too?

Speaking to you through my notes is all I can ever do,

How could this ever be love when you’re not here too?

It’s more than a habit, less than an addict;

Somewhere in space,

Miles away from earth

We’re together and it doesn’t hurt.

Yes I’m over you,

But I could stay in this Space, here on Earth,

Being together, and keeping you out so it doesn’t hurt,

Just so I could keep you in here, this deep whole that never closed up.

When all goes wrong I think of you,

Because I know the dead don’t move,

And I don’t want to be alone –

So I carry on attaching myself to you.

You became my reflex,

And now I have to unlearn you.

You have to want to too.

3). You sinned to hide your sin,

And that’s what a coward is.

Leave me alone if you love me –

That’s why I knew you lied when you said you loved me.

You just want me.

I don’t understand how love doesn’t come with that.

4). One day you’ll be a 100 miles away from the heartbreak,

So far,

You won’t feel it, ricochet,

And shake the ground,

It won’t ever go but that’s why we move on.

8). And I wish I could let you love me,

But all I feel is that hole, an emptiness,

When you’re human, and vulnerable.

All I feel is shame, and disgust,

When you look at me.

She broke my heart,

And I can’t find the pieces,

Or the pieces are just set in stone.

Maybe that’s why I’ve always let you hurt me,

So the lava will come

And somehow stone will glow.

You locked me away,

But forgot, when found, my freedom will shatter your

Imaginary walls, and my heart in one blow,

So I can build a new one, a new home.

5). You always said I was the stars,

And you the sun;

But you knew that was true didn’t you?

That when you rise,

I would fall,

Become invisible,

And let you burn my world.

Don’t forget where you came from,

You’ll forget where you belong.

6). It’s all done to silence you,

Keep you stuck in their treacle trap.

But, you never thought I’d grow a new part to me,

And slip right out your reach

⁃ keep the old me.

Poetry For Pain

“Lies have speed, but truth has endurance.”

You did not lose me:

What is lost, can be found.

I don’t know what you did,

But you did not lose me.

I think when you feel those emotions,

You are at your strongest.


And I loved where the water showed where the light was,

Where I could give life,

And not be asked much of afterwards.

Everyone was in love with me, but you,

I wonder why that was.

Was it because I had the life you had lost in a bet?

Was it because it made you feel good, to be excluded from the rest?

Did it make you feel good that it would only be us, standing together,

In this pond of no love?

I always said I could only love with you with my tears.

I kind of felt like a shopkeeper:

My shift was ending,

No one had been in –

Do I go,

Or stay,

Just in case you come in?

Love is not duty, I’m throwing the towel in.

Where you can’t prove,

You must choose

What comes natural to you.

It made me angry,

I had questioned my own sanity,

My yellow heart,

For a —- who lived in — own world.

I took on a burden that was not mine to have,

I was living with the issue of someone else.

I felt stupid for loving you,

But imagine having to hate, to bring someone close.

It made me laugh, towards the end,

How someone could destroy my soul,

And cry at the truth of theirs, when their reckoning came.

Don’t f*ck with me, I burn cold.

And when I watched the flowers on Eeshy’s heart grow,

I forgave the mud he had thrown.

When I saw the smile on her glow,

I forgave the tears he had provoked, and made flow –

Even left the hate and the judgement for him to make of his own soul.

When I saw the freedom she had created,

In the midst of battle cries and a war –

I knew she was made for this,

To be human,

To grow.

You will get past this, if you let your kindness flow. Forgive and still say no.

I had been taught to understand and empathise,

It takes thick skin, and a heart so soft – anything else would break it.

You did what you did.

You came into my house,

My body,

And did what you did;

There’s no redemption here, let me be a lesson to you if you come looking for it.

Apologies, here, mean nothing,

Just like a kiss can’t fixed ripped skin.

You want to change?

Don’t stand here and interrupt my healing,

To fix what you broke, when you broke me:

Did your mumma not tell you,

To hurt another,

Will just eventually rip off your own skin?

You need something irretrievably broken,

To keep you moving from what’s been your nature for so long,

When the sweat creeps in.

Intuition shows up,

Where ego, judgement and fear are not.

That’s why I know I must heal those wounds,

So they don’t get what they want.

I’ve seen that fear, that blind panic,

In men’s eyes too many times,

When confronted with the truth.

No concern or a bowed head,

As it should have been.

You are a coward, it’s what you’ve always been.

Let me return to my own thoughts and biases,

Issues and them all.

I’m done playing God.

For if I had sinned before,

His pain had washed me clean.

Imagine hating yourself so much,

You run into a trap, just to get out.

Running too close to death,

The Devil burned me with His fire this time –

and you, you took too much;

Took my breath, to feel something,

In that cavity of yours where all nerve endings are dead.

I’ve given so much of myself,

Different places,

Dfiferent grounds,

Where the Moon goes around the Sun,

And stars can still shine against the blue.

I have so little for myself,

That I have a cave within,

That I cave into when I reach for myself.

Stretching against gravity,

Why are your arms so mean?

Please, please give it back,

You said you loved me,

But how can that be,

When you’re whole because you broke me,

Into pieces so scattered, my mind fell apart.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever been loved:

I’ve had obsession, hate enevloped in a kiss

Held in the middle of the air, and left when I didn’t float –

Guess you forgot there’s too much life in these feet.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever been loved:

They love what I give,

And show me they love back through wanting more.

Show me you love me, by stepping back, letting me breathe,

Like you want me to live, and not leave.

I’m in my head,

I live here,

Love here,

Work here,

Sometimes sleep doesn’t take it away,

And sometimes I just want the days to end.

I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be me,

And it was just another day of work to him.

Do you know what fear does to a girl like me?

I loved you so much,

But who was I loving?

No one told me the dead could be living,

No one told me about the ghost in my bed, I always thought monsters were under the bed.

If fear makes a man repent, I fear he’ll do it again.

When I was seen, I wanted to be.

That’s what makes you different from me.

Not all bullshit is to deceive,

It’s to protect,

And then it’s just relief,

When we both see.

It was all just a game, I know.

We were both playing too,

Maybe that’s why I felt so connected to you:

The same hurts, held in different ways.

I know if I changed the tune,

You wouldn’t mind dancing differently too.

Nakedness.

Let’s talk about naked bodies.

I had a complete existential crisis today.

I had taken some photos in my bra + shorts (it’s 31° today, in England) on my new Polaroid camera. They were cool, they were sexy. I looked good, I felt good.

I, impulsively, posted them on my private Instagram. And then very quickly deleted them.

Now, I only have 60 followers on Instagram, but my anxiety went UP.

I started catastrophically thinking. What if someone wants to be nasty and send them into my sixth form? What if someone keeps them and gives them to a future employee?

I struggle with paranoia now, after what I went through last year. Expecting the worse is a safety mechanism, I guess. My body, my mind, could not cope with another traumatic effect: it wants safety, and safety is what is going to help me heal.

I also was questioning my morals a lot. Like, why am I doing this? What is it for?

Part of me felt as if it was the fact that I just want to feel confident in my body. I want this fear-based thinking gone, this looming insecurity that can ruin my day in a millisecond. In fact I need it to be gone.

I wanted to do what I wanted to do, without letting other people’s opinions and beliefs censor that. After all, this isn’t murder we are talking about. This is a personal choice that does not catastrophically affect anyone else; if someone accused me of affecting them through the way I’d dress, I imagine they would have overestimated the power of me and underestimated the danger of them.

So, then I was like: would I actually walk around, in public, wearing a bra and shorts? Would I let people see my underwear at all? And if I didn’t, why the hell not? Because people would stare? Because it would be inappropriate? Am I not hypocritical for posting something I would NEVER do in real life? Am I not hypocritical for posting something when there is no way I could stand in my underwear, in front of my peers? Is there any way I wouldn’t feel embarrassed if other people looked at the images, in my presence?

I guess that’s because social media is an insight in our life, behind closed doors. So, really, it isn’t about that anyway.

BUT.

It’s all well and good posting things on social media: it removes us a reality away from the reality. Kind of gives the same effect dissociation does.

I think I want privacy, you know? I think I want that.

And then I was thinking, why is lingerie different from a bathing costume? Why is it, my friends can show their bums on social media, in a bikini, and I can’t show off my cleavage and stomach?

What is the moral line between lingerie and a swimming costume?

Another part of me was also like: “If I don’t show what I have, I will regret it.” But, there it is. The battle between the ego, and the soul.

What I would regret, is not showing other people.

And, ‘what if’, I regret forcing myself to be something I’m not?

How could I regret feeling comfortable, feeling confident in what I chose to wear. How could I regret having a ball of a time when I go out, because I didn’t dress in a way that made me feel insecure?

Is this where I accept something within myself, rather than pushing myself to be something I’m not?

Does this go past feminism? Isn’t the advocacy for body confidence merely just the demand to make a choice between modesty and nudity? Surely it’s not demanding I be nude? Or be modest? Surely, it’s just allowing me to make a choice about the way I choose the express myself, whatever gender I am?

Although I wanted to, predominantly, post that picture to make a stance about a female’s body, because I always felt that the more I showed, the less there was to me – and I wanted to change that. Was it actually a reflection of me? Or was it more fraudulent to post something so bold, and flake when it came to manifesting that rebellion in my real, present day life?

Because even though I, as a woman, believe I have a moral obligation to empower myself, and those around me, to break the chains that were made to imprison a woman, I am also a person. I am not just a woman. I am much more than gender could ever confine.

I am a soul, with insecurities, and confidences. I love parts of myself, and love others less. I have my own approaches, my own individual path to follow.

And it’s not that my body is a gift to give, it’s not that it is a prized possession to be possessed. It is a fragile thing, with a lot of fear in it. It has been bruised and violated. It is something that is at its best, when it feels safe. And maybe, that’s okay. Maybe it’s okay to give into what my body wants. And it needs care, not force.

Again: it needs care, not force.

Posting a picture to tell others, my body is not theirs, is meaningless. I cannot tell anyone what else to think. I may be able to influence them, yes, only if my truth speaks to something within them, that only they are responsible for. But, I could say it till I’m blue in the face, and there will be a person, maybe more, who does not treat my body the way that I want them too, the way I feel they should do.

Who does need to believe it, who does need to oblige and listen and respect it, is me. Posting that picture? Does nothing for me. Absolutely nothing. It just puts a penetrable space between me, and them. It’s not real vulnerability, it’s just ignoring how I really feel and getting on with it, till all that is compressed… rots and spews out in so many other ways when I’m older.

What I really need to do is find me. By acknowledging I can empower myself with either nudity and modesty. And find where I am on either side of that spectrum, or between that, away from everyone else. And, then, then I shall see where I slot into society. How I can manifest me.

I can absolutely encourage others to be exactly what they want to be, against the odds and the persecution their peers lead against their personal + harmless choices, WITHOUT needing to join.

I will join, when I know it is what my body wants. When I know it is a deep desire for me. And not some moral obligation I am obliged to carry out. That will take time, and less thinking, with more feeling.

That, that is my middle ground.

I think it is okay to reject the things that cause me to overthink and stress. I think it is okay to want peace. And I don’t think I could ever regret that.

So… to conclude … If I can’t do it in real life, I shouldn’t set a false expectation on my social media. And I don’t need to berate myself for that. What I need to do, first and foremost, is cultivate confidence and positivity, and see where that leads me 😽

AJ ❤

‘Sex and The City’

She told the world, not only could they not have better, they would also be the agent of their own demise – and that this, this was inevitable.

I just had to write a blog about this.

I have recently been binging the old and world-loved series, Sex and the City. Currently on season 3, episode 9 – and, yes, I have got here in just under four days.

But, having been completely outraged by season 3, episode 9, I had to channel my emotions somewhere.

Carrie Bradshaw slept with Big. Carrie Bradshaw slept with Big after finding the perfect boyfriend, who treated her better than Big ever could. Carrie Bradshaw crumbled after Big said he was leaving his wife for her, whilst drunk, and then told, whilst Big was sober, he wasn’t leaving her because the divorce would be too expensive. Carrie Bradshaw gave up a year of healing from a man who would not marry her, who then married another woman in less than three months. Carrie Bradshaw sabotaged her own future by sleeping with Big after telling her he ‘didn’t know’, but that he missed her, that he loved her, after he forced himself upon her and followed her whilst she was running away – evilly knowing she would crumble.

We all sat there, me, my mum, my sister, shouting at the computer screen as if Carrie could hear us. My sister refused to watch the show again and claimed Carrie was the most disgusting character she knew. My mum, even though she watched the show years ago, when I was just a toddler, ran out of the room in despair. And I, sat there, motionless, almost a little heartbroken myself. But, why? Why did this affect every single woman in my household?

Because all of us were Carrie.

My mum was a manifested version of Carrie’s ultimate downfall; me and my sister the product of that. And, as if it was in our DNA, I, myself, had chased after my heart in someone else’s hands – to the detriment of my own well-being, far past heartbreak. My sister had watched, growing up, the women around her fail, fail because of men – beyond immediate family.

So, were we angry at Carrie because we were angry at ourselves? Were we angry at Carrie, because we were scared of our own innate potential to be like her? Was it a way of distancing ourselves from our own hubris in flesh?

I wondered: I have always struggled with where the line is where it comes to tolerance in relationship. Me? I’ve always had a high one: I was the caretaker in my family. And I’ve been brought up to always try to understand why people do what they do. He couldn’t commit because someone broke his heart, he couldn’t do this because of x and y and z. And so on. But, truthfully? All it has EVER done is cause pain, deep pain – and allowed me to be taken advantage of. Granted, yes, I may have been understanding the wrong people, projecting some sort of humane explanation onto them – where humanity is lacked. And truthfully, I do it because I know I would always want to be understood.

I saw this in Carrie too.

But understanding is difference from tolerance, isn’t it? And empathy is difference from pity, isn’t it?

And, is there not two people in every situation? What about me? Why do we both forget about me?

What I did not have to wonder about, however, is the fact that Sex and The City failed all women. The lot of us. And instead, championed every single man that, my sworn arch enemy, Big represents.

Carrie marries Big.

What is worse, is that Big calls off the wedding by abandoning Carrie at the Church. And, again, after a whole year of immense pain and depression, Carrie marries Big.

And they live happily, ever, after.

I could not help but think the whole series, and sequential films, endorsed this damaging, backward fantasy that women must earn the love of a man, through self-sacrifice that could very realistically push anyone off the side of a cliff. This absurd fantasy that a man will eventually change for the woman that he loves. The bitter belief that having a wholesome, available and fully-ticked checkbox man, like Aidan – who Carrie cheated on for cheating, unavailable and abusive Big -, would never be fulfilling for any woman. And merely because they do not give us the ‘same butterflies’.

I was insulted. Almost violated.

The realisation that women are expected to transform a failure of a human being into a husband, was beyond me. It disgusted me. And, truthfully, I was angry at their mothers, their fathers. Their nature.

Sure, some men do change for their partners – but not without all the aforementioned grief. And is that type of relationship ever truly healthy, anyway? But it’s sad because, I’m sure that for most of the time – a woman is pursuing this man to fulfil her own dysfunction, not because of who he presently is. It’s an insult to both parties, isn’t it?

Now, this is not a spiteful, hateful speech aimed at the male species. It is also aimed at women like Carrie, women like me – and the damage they do to men like Aidan, who never even deserve it. But, that’s life isn’t it? The people who are damaged by others, in later-life, never do deserve it – they are simply damaged because they are good. Because they can be. Because they’re not far removed and deluded enough to be God- like, like Big. They are real, and here. Right in front of us. But they force us, women like Carrie, women like me, women like my Mum, to confront a very painful wound: Carrie could not bear the insanity of tranquillity, the peacefulness, the healthiness that was in her relationship with Aidan. The truth is, we are scared of being really and truly loved by a person who, if they did ever leave, would render a heartbreak that would take something away from our own soul. Ironically, we are safe with men like Big. We are safe with the predictability of their unpredictability. We are safe with the distance that pining for an acceptance, a validation, that will never be authentically given: we change with men like Big. And so, so are our truest selves.

So, I realised that self-love is not safe at all. I realised that love is, and always will be completely logical (to the opposite of Carrie’s beliefs) – but that a sexual connection will never be, a ‘love’ that disempowers you, and brings you to your knees, will never be either. How could it be, when the only logical thing, is to love ourselves? I’m talking about the self-love that brings the light to all of our darkest demons, our deepest hurts and outcasts them – so that humanity can thrive too. Profoundly, perhaps, we are programmed to self-destruct, despite all these survival instincts. Perhaps we are the masters of our downfalls, and some of us, like Carrie, do indeed fall.

Candance Bushnell, despite her genius legacy, failed all women, who are represented by Carrie. She told the world, not only could they not have better, she told the world they would also be the agent of their own demise – and that this, this was inevitable, inescapable.