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Love or Lies? Lovers Lie.

I had to rewrite our memories,

A sweet kiss, duck tape to shut my lips,

A hug with no words that once was support and bliss,

An action,

Because you didn’t understand it. 

I’m not sure what was hardest,

Facing reality, or the regret 

That I thought we were something,

That never existed.


Do you think you can care about someone and still hurt them? I said. 

He said, yes.

I used to think that answer would allow me to breathe again,

But it made me sad that you thought the world of me, 

And still wouldn’t be your best. 

It made me sad that there probably was all this love, 

That it was never acted on. 

What a waste, hey? 

Maybe some hurts are a not yet

And what a shame I was born with a clock in my head.


I’m not sure what to write about you,

Perhaps it’s because I don’t know you,

And I don’t presume to.

I can write about how you made me feel though,

How you ripped my world away from me,

Oh so quickly,

Too quickly 

For my mind to keep up with the grief. 

One morning, mourning,

There’s no one word for what came after.

Just loss, complete, utter loss,

Devastation, confusion,

4AM schedule so I could sleep my day away

And have less time with this pain.

I know I won’t wake up from this the same.

And you? Will you ever feel shame?

Will I ever have the courage to say 

“I should never have been treated this way”?

Perhaps I’m not the one who needs to make sense of it,

Perhaps I’m not the one who needs to fear the wrath of it. 


We’d spend more time finding the shattered shards,

Then putting them together,

More time putting them together,

Than loving one another. 

Let me go. 



Was any of it real? 

Did we have something? Did we love?

Was some part of us made for one another or was it just lust?

Lust for who you wanted to be,

Lust for the best of us?

I miss you, I miss you, your touch, 

It hurts too much for this to be anything but love. 


I used to think knowing you weren’t

The person I met would save me, 

Undo this feeling of losing you.

And it worked,

It did,

Protected me from despair, 

From thinking I would never love again.

But now it hurts,

Wondering what on earth we were.

I don’t even think you loved me anymore.

I don’t think we were ever on the same page,

And I don’t think I can forgive you for

Letting me smile at you that night,

When I told you I loved you,

That you’re the first person I’ve dared to trust too,

When you knew all along how this was going to end.

Were you just living off borrowed time? 

A selfish gamble for things you know that belong to your dreams? 

Did it ever bother you, how it might end for me?

Did you even think of me? 

I’ll never know what was going on in your head,

You won’t even give me that peace:

Bent on destroying me,

Or anything you feel for me,

Anything that might reach the boy I used to know. 

I’m sorry for the both of us,

Because no matter how hard I try to paint you blue,

I know we touched each other in a way 

That confounds the future 

And everything you’ve ever been,

And for what it’s worth, I loved you,

But even when I write that, it’s not the same. 

All I can do now is forget,

And that’s exactly what I want to do. 


I’m alone again,

Back where I was before you,

So many people to talk to, but not really to talk to.

I listen, and they smile,

But no one hears me like you do

No ones seen the real me, since you. 


To admit I loved you,

Is to admit you existed.

But it’s over now, either way.

Maybe one day I’ll grow some more of what I cared for your soul with.

That stuff that love is. 


I realised it was never about you,

It never felt like you were there.

You were always behind me, to the side of me,

Watching.

I was not struggling to let you go,

How could I? When you were just a story you told.

It was me, the person I was with him,

How I felt, what I’ve been told,

More times than you will ever know.

It wasn’t leaving you that was hard,

It was knowing that I was going to change, irrevocably,

That something inside of me was about to fall apart.


I still think of you,

Ache a bit when I think of you,

Wonder where it all went wrong,

What I should have done, how we used to be.

But I’m happy, genuinely,

Wind in my hair,

My friends. 

So I’m no longer scared, 

I will be okay. 



I think it could have been different,

Actually, I know,

But my different is different to your idea of different,

I know.

I never could understand why we couldn’t try again,

Become each other’s needs,

But this time, I know,

What we were, is exactly how it was supposed to be,

And our ending, an ending indeed.

God, 5 months I’ve waited,

Battled, actually,

For this piece of peace to come to me. 

I just wanted it to be you, so badly, 

But I firmly believe what you pretended to be,

Is out there, waiting for me,

And some of it, me. 


And I’ll feel sad

When I hear your name.

But I won’t crumble 

Or feel that ache.

I don’t need to hold you accountable 

Or reaffirm that you caused me this pain.

Either way, it’s okay.

It just happened,

Two worlds collided, catastrophically,

One more heartbreak.

Is this peace? 

Acceptance?

Being okay with letting you go?

It was only a month ago

The thought of losing you 

Would blind me with panic 

Perhaps it’s because I no longer feel alone.

You’re not the one, 

No amount of familiarity 

Could make you measure up to that. 

And that’s all it is,

Familiarity. 

Just two people, who were once involved,

And couldn’t make it work.

No matter how much I miss it,

We found our limit

And not even me,

Can redesign the pre-destined dimensions 

Of our fit. 

And my god, does this realisation feel great.

That I really will be okay,

Like all of my friends told me,

When my future felt as small as you made me feel that day. 

Life goes on,

And I need you to know, 

That yours too will one day 

Be less blurred, consumed 

By all that burning hot pain. 


No one wants to take the blame,

To know what we loved, is no longer the same.

To think it could have been different,

But no, you and I, we changed,

You, more the same,

Me, lost, trust gone.

Not just in you, me too,

And that’s a pain you’ll never understand,

You’ll never know what you put me through.

I’ve never felt the same, 

Like somethings missing, like I’m lost,

And I think you think I’m prettier now,

Hairs longer, darker, soft to the touch,

Shorter dresses, more makeup, 

But I feel dull, I’m constantly trying to reach the girl I was.

I miss her, so much, 

Perhaps it’s not you I have to say goodbye to,

It’s to her,

The version of myself I think I’ve only ever loved.

But I think I can like this new one,

She’s present, independent,

Stronger than ever. 

Older, I’m older,

And I have the time to understand her,

To give her what she wants, needs, desires,

When she’s ready,

You’ll burn with just a look. 

I’ll love her the way you couldn’t love me,

Slowly, patiently, without need,

Unconditionally.

I won’t take because I can, 

And it’s not that I won’t break promises,

I’ll just never offer more than I know I have.

You always knew though, didn’t you?

That I was different from you,

Clever, too clever for the likes of you,

Well-spoken, a family you could never fit into,

Kind, giving, 

Thoughtful, daring, a little bit too fast for you,

Until I slowed down, put some of my weight on you, 

Not even a gram of what I carry,

But you won’t know that, will you? 

You became selfish, lazy, 

You never even held me the same – 

Placed your hand on my lower back like you used to.

You wanted me, so much, it drove you crazy,

And then, as it always happens, I lent on you,

And everything changed,

I lost the boy I loved, as soon as he knew I felt the same.


It became all about you,

The switch was like whiplash.

What I thought I was walking into,

Was nothing close to what you put me through. 

I was so busy loving you,

Doing everything you needed me to,

I didn’t even notice I was walking through hell,

That I had left myself so I could be with you. 

You took advantage of the fact,

That I never believe I deserved to be loved,

How could you,

When I was the way I was?

What was supposed to heal me, 

Ate away at me, 

How could I not see? 

How did you see, and not have the love to tell me? 

What did you do with all that love you said you had for me?

Because I never felt the warmth of it?

But you did put your hand around my neck..

That pressure in my head,

‘I hate that I love you.. I can’t get enough of you’,

So confused, so scared.

Who are you?

You did look at me at times, like you wanted me to drop dead,

And I could hear it in your eyes,

Whatever that unspoken thing was you kept.

You did do everything to ensure I was alone, when I needed you most,

You would look after everyone but me.

That’s what it was,

That look, you were disgusted by me. 

I’ve seen it so many times before,

And I was too young to know then,

What I know now:

That, really, you are disgusted by yourself,

Hateful for the mirror I held.

They look at me, like I know something,

And I think it’s because I will speak the truth,

I had a fire in me, a defiance that challenged them,

Because how dare I, stand up to them,

When their sway was rooted in their cruelty,

My silence, their averted eyes.


And it’s the guilt, 

That won’t let me feel the pain you cause.

What I do must be worse,

For you to treat me as so.

That’s what the little girl in me was told,

Not knowing she had nothing to do with

Their frustrations, their hurts.

I’m sorry for my share,

But I’m starting to realise,

I really didn’t deserve to be treated like that,

I actually needed love,

A sentence from you,

“I’m just not enough”,

“Not enough space to see you as whole,

Too unavailable to take the struggle, only the good”.

If I was perfect,

I still wouldn’t have been enough. 

And even if you could have coped,

I don’t want to be what I was. 


I can accept

I’m tiresome.

I can accept I’m difficult to love.

Never had an issue with the above,

Never thought I was worth enough,

Anyway,

To be fought for, thought of. 

Leave? I’ll completely understand it.

Would never dare to expect more,

How dare I? Stupid, disgusting,

Loathsome.

All this space for you, and them, and her, and him,

Still wouldn’t expect any from you,

Wouldn’t even give myself a shelf in this 

Day-dream, my frazzled brain,

So I understand, don’t worry about it, I do it too.

Too focused on what they might feel as a result,

My affect distorted,

By her vile campaign. 

But a part of me was always uncomfortable 

With the thought I deserved to be treated horrendously,

No matter how ready I was to accept

This is the way it was,

This is the way a person like me would always be loved. 

I think, that’s perhaps what’s kept me alive all this time,

That quiet surge of strength,

A crazed panic just when I’m about to give up. 

I owe that piece of me the world. 

I must struggle, endure the horrendous,

Just for a small amount of acceptance,

Love, a “well done”,

Must perform the impossible, 

Love everything, and everyone,

A tiresome duty,

Yes, it does weigh a tonne.

That’s what I deserve,

Expect nothing more,

Feel blessed,

Never give yourself any credit,

Focus on all your negatives.

But she told me I actually needed more,

And though it may be given by fewer,

Less frequently inbetween each visitor,

A rarity, 

I need more: 

More love, more care,

More patience, 

One with strength.

Someone just like me, actually,

Open, veins flooded with empathy.

Not somebody who abuses my vulnerability. 

That, actually,

My fear of being too much,

Mirrors theirs, of not being enough –

Cramping myself against all these people,

That tread on me, never noticing me,

Means I’m loved by people who take up too much space,

Who expect others to hold them up,

Too scared to feel the weight of their own hatred,

Too scared to look at themselves, let alone accept another,

They must run.


He meant a lot to me,

A lot was wrong with us.

But he meant a lot to me.

First love, maybe,

Not the first to strike deep,

But the first to really hurt me,

Emotionally, 

The first to see an uncensored version of me.

No, that’s not right,

He didn’t even know half of me,

But I didn’t have to think so much,

I was present, 

Rebellious,

A kid. 

Perhaps there doesn’t even have to be a reason,

I just found myself saying yes to him, listening to him,

Believing him,

And then one day, I had let him in. 

I was whatever I wanted to be,

Without worrying,

He would punish me. 

He told me he was safe, 

He told me he was patient,

And I was ready for that –

I was ready to be taken care of. 

I believed him,

He was the first person I’ve ever believed.

I guess that is it,

I let him in,

Trusted him. 

And I loved him for it,

Enough to endure the truth of him.

I didn’t actively choose to do it,

And it’s not that he couldn’t do it,

It’s not that he tried, then failed,

He just knew the truth of him.

Knew it all along,

And I loved him too much, to concede to it.

I can go right back to the moment 

We lost what we had,

I can see it, feel it so vividly, 

The moment you conceded it to yourself too. 

Perhaps you did want it to work too, 

And the sadness that spreads across my chest when I think of that..

Perhaps it broke the both of us,

Just one of us knew when enough was enough. 

One of us thought it was a crime to do what they had to do,

I guess that’s why you could be cruel,

And I dwelt so much. 

You neglected me,

Never bothered to love me,

Cried, when you had hurt me.

That’s what it meant to be with you.

Daddy’s girls only.

And you know,

I was rarely ever mad, before those days where you pushed, and pushed, and pushed me,

I would talk through what hurt me,

Why I shut you out,

Made an effort, always,

Till I didn’t even know what it meant to be me,

Just disappointed, deeply hurt,

Let down,

I remember staring at the ceiling, numb, 

You crying, on my chest,

Knowing it meant, you’d do it again.

And oh yes, I was difficult enough for the both of us,

Like a child, playing hide and seek.

I showed you the worst of me,

But I saw yours, when you used it to hurt me.

We laughed,

And I think we both cared, deeply,

Genuinely.

I forgive you,

And not just to set myself free,

But because, 

I think if you ever chose to face it, 

That awful wrath of grief, 

You’ll need it. 

But I won’t forget,

If I did, I’m scared I would forget the girl you hurt,

And I know if I saw you,

You’d still be where you left me,

Venemous, determined,

Isn’t it funny you walked, but I was the one who got away.


I know now, anyway, 

It was just a moment of bliss,

A pause before the war I was about to rage.

Another space of healing I had to explore.

I’m too far removed from it all now,

Too on guard

To miss the bond,

The friendship, your smile,

Your touch. 

I don’t think I do anyway,

The bare minimum,

Something a stranger can exchange.

How was everything, nothing?

You came into my life,

As an example,

A lesson,

To show me, I could do

What I always thought I was incapable of,

Not preempting any bad thing that could happen to me,

And only those who can relate,

Will know the hell it is to live with a brain 

That never think it’s safe.

But I stayed too long.

And even after all the embarrassment,

The humiliation, you happily serenaded me with,

The abuse, your cruelty, 

Loving having the power you felt you lacked when you were with me, 

Knowing this time, you could be the one to do whatever you wanted,

And isn’t it interesting to see who people will be,

When they know they won’t be left lonely,

Dog gone mad from a tight leash,

What we had, will always stay with me.

Not because you are special to me,

But because of the girl you met,

With her fringe, and cowboy boots,

Desperately trying to find who she was,

Desperately trying to be, me.


 I used to look at you with empathy,

Look at it all, through you,

Pity you, feel for you,

Punish myself for things that you do.

I suppose that’s what love is,

You become two,

These things matter to you.

Now I’m cold,

I’ll look through you,

I don’t care about you –

I’ll forget you,

Your existence will fade,

And you, you’ll be nothing more than a mistake:

I think when I’ll look at you,

I won’t see the songs that we played,

That one devastating exchange,

I’ll just see a face,

Like the one’s I see everyday.

Your views, and your complaints,

Will ricochet,

Bounce right back to you:

I’d do anything for the boy I met,

And nothing for the one who left.


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.

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.

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.

Finalities

And, it’s been a while,

Since I’ve heard your voice,

Pressed into keys and

Notes –

Refund the broken time,

Cha-ching,

Rinse your breath from my soul,

Wash the rest down the sink,

Chests hidden in

Boats of yours and mine stories to be told.

Red seas no longer are,

Golds and White entwine in what was a star,

It heals,

It heals;

breathe you out, into a forgotten jar,

Where time is made and sold

To the devil who told

The story of You and me.

Give what was to the dark.

It’s free,

It’s free,

The pleas heard to

Let it free,

Were heard.

And yet standing in between this space of ours and mine,

Of freedom and escape,

I still love you,

It is bizarre;

Love does not know the chime,

Of my grandfather,

And ceased though you are,

Forever you will stay,

At the bottom of my beating blood red heart.

What We Preach

I think there is beauty everywhere,

In every line and crevice of the human face,

Crooked and straight.

Ultraviolets and golds

At the base

Of yours and mine’s stories to be told,

That we decorate,

With the souls of strangers laced

Into our heart rate,

Where they all live forever as bold,

as of the infinitive universes’ grace.

Milks and honeys,

Chocolate siennas and vanilla,

Night skies painted with big taupe eyes:

It’s everywhere you see,

Just hidden away

From vanity and what we preach.