Sometimes I just look at him, when our eyes meet, it kills me that I don't know what it is. One thing for sure he always has his thoughts somewhere else, always so distant. He's never really with me as much as I like him to be. But, I want to feel as close to him as I can, I want to please him so much, I want him to stay on me till his sweat forms a layer on my bare skin, I want to be drenched in his scent, I want to be a part of him. He doesn't know that, even if he does, there isn't any room for me. This is it. It has to be it.

The first time T and I had sex, I was too drunk to remember how it went exactly.

I remember waking up, crusty eyed from last night's mascara, feeling the unfamilar sheets and recalling how cold the room was. I never ever sleep with the A/C on. I turn over and I see that he is already awake.

He didn't look so bad. I must have liked something about him last night. Then he said something to me which I didn't quite understand. God, he was so European. I get it now, I must have liked his accent.

I had to do the morning thing, pee and brush my teeth. I don't usually use people's tooth brushes but considering the fact that my mouth might have explored areas far more private then his toothbrush, I really couldn't bother anymore. I scan for clothes and I only see my runched up thong lying somewhere a few feet from me. I decided to brave the A/C.

We didn't talk too much. I remember trying to leave his apartment twice only to have him shag me somemore. By the afternoon, we exhausted his condom supply.

Some days I feel destructive, I just want consume as much alcohol or whatever people offer me till I reach a state my mind falls into the depths of a black hole. I just want to hurt myself because I feel worthless and ashamed of everything I had done before. I just want to bury myself in misery. I am stained.
Some days I think about the past, I think about how everything might have been. I lie on my side of the bed and cry into his pillow. I curse at the Gods and ask them how did it all end up like this, did he really love me? Why did the one thing I had so much hope in walk out on me? What did I do wrong? I thought things could get better. I cry so hard my chest hurts, I get exhausted, I pop some more pills and fall asleep.
Some days I wake up feeling like the happiest girl, I feel like I've got everything going on in my life, I feel free, I feel liberated. I feel like I can do whatever the fuck I want and no one can bring me down anymore. I feel like someone cut the shackles and that the day he left me was the day I had been finally set free.. Set free to be myself.
Some days I stay in bed and don't think about anything at all. I just lay in silence, dust till dawn, watching time pass.

"Vodka soda please."

Hmmm. I didn't react for awhile. He gave me a frown. Like he was waiting for me to say something. Oh now I remember...

" You look familiar. You were here last night weren't you."

" Yeah." He smiles.

I didn't really talk much with him until much later. Maybe until I eased up after a couple of glasses of champange from the 2 bottles of moet he ordered.

" Wanna go for a smoke?"

" Sure." He got off the bar stool almost immediatly.

Both of us, sitting on an orange ice box outside the bar smoking, looking at the cars passing by, I start swinging my legs.

" Hey, I got something for you." He puts into his hand into his right pocket and digs for it.

" Here." He places it on my belly. " Don't look at it now."

I ignore him and unfold the slightly crushed paper with messy scribbles all over. I turn to the next side and ah ha !

" Ignore the other side of the this. I just wanted to say hi and thank you for being so smiley + happy. Please look me up.. even if you don't, drop me a line :) You are so sweet and from the first time I saw you yesterday I fell in love with your smile. xxx "

" Can't believe you just read that infront of me. And I had to write that in the loo. Couldn't get that Pakistani guy off my back."

" You make me feel like I'm back in high school....." I gave him a nudge and both of us laugh.

" Will you call me?"

"I don't know actually." I look away and take another drag off my cigarette.

I can never blog the same way knowing that Goldilocks keeps a link of my blog. I feel like he has stolen a part of me.

Today he got on the train without me.

I tried my best but I took the wrong street and still got lost along the way. When I reached the train station slightly later then expected, I ran around trying to search for him, I knew he would be mad and I didn't want to fight. All I had infront of me was the sea of unfamiliar faces looking back at me, where are you? I picked up my cell phone and called him. He told me he left and that I could catch the next train to him or make my own plans, then he hung up. I fall to the ground and cry. I never felt so lost, so abandoned before. The person next to me asked me if I was okay and I said no, I'm not okay.

I miss being under the showers with you, the heat fogging up the mirrors, I feel warm both inside out. You take me in your arms and you tell me to wait it out, that it'll all end soon, you said you really love me and need me in your life. I forgive you and I love you too but the last time you told me this was in Decemeber and it's May now.

An IM window pops up on my screen. It's Goldilocks. What a surprise.

"London, Barcelona, Sweden, Milan, Madrid, Florence or Rome?"

Hmmm.. As tempted as I was to just randomly pick one, I decided against it. After a hard 2 minutes of mental debating and testing myself on whatever knowledge I had on the countries, I picked two instead.

" Barcelona or Rome? "

" Well, apart from these two cause I have already been there. I was thinking London or Sweden actually. What do you think?"

Well, fuck you.

London or Sweden? I wouldn't have minded on going to either but why ask me to chose and then tell me to pick something else? In that case, I don't want to go to London or Sweden. Just.

" GBP is three times my currency so I might as well be prepared to be depressed since I will either keep thinking of shop lifting or live rather miserably because I cannot afford anything. I've been there as a child. Don't remember being very impressed. "

"Sweden?"

"Sweden sounds boring. What do they have? Meatballs... Blonde chicks big tits. Not my thing."

I am not pleased. I want to go to anywhere but Sweden or London. I have decided that since he has irritated me, I shall just insist on going to Barcelona or Rome. Then again, Milan sounds nice. Not going to mention that today until he apologizes.

"I haven't been to those 2 places and I really want to go there."

"I want to go to France."

"Hate France, been there. You wouldn't like it."

At this point, I stop replying.

"What is wrong with you?"

Something wrong with me??? Are you kidding? Nothing is wrong. Nothing really... Apart from the fact that you asked ME to chose and happily over-write my choice. This is not the first time! Why is it always about you? Pffft!

What is wrong with you?!?!

Dear xxx, I was never a believer of monogamy. Hated morals, social norms and the masses notion of true love. Now, you just waltz into my life and reduced me into this infatuated, starry doe eyed cunt.

Tin Tin

Just then, he leans forward with his lips brushing against my ear, he whispers, " I might just steal you. " I look straight into this olive eyes, not knowing what to say, I smile and bite on my lower lip. He leans forward again and I look away this time.

" Look girl, I really like you.. " He paused, stroking my hair, holding me closer and closer to him but before I let him get to the moment, I threw my head back and laughed. I then asked him " So as you were saying?"

"And I am really jealous of that boyfriend of yours baby. "

I look to the side of the road.

" So this is when you put me into a taxi and I will text you saying how much I enjoyed tonight."

" Are we going to see each other again?"

I nod my head.

I can't take this anymore

I'm willing to put my conscience on hold, so that in this pitch dark of night, I'll reach out and not feel an empty space beside me. I'll shut that voice that sings of the truth, so as the sun rises and invades my bedroom, I can turn and say " Isn't this a beautiful morning?" and hear you reply.

But it doesn't happen. I switch my cellphone off and drown myself in stale tea and cigarettes. I wallow in self-pity. Why must this night be so endless? Why must the morning sun be so blinding?

Too many times I walk through the door and ask myself "Why hasn't the party ended?" I don't want the bubly. I don't need the boys. Tequila doesn't make my problems go away. It makes me cry, makes my mascara run, makes me get fucked by blokes I don't like or in that case ever grow to like.

So what if they're hot? They take advantage of this vulnerable me. The emotional me. The me that happens after 7 shots. Pull my skirt up and feel my legs, how their touch disgust me. I wish they would just leave, leave me alone.