I smoke because I associate it with happier memories. When I started I had good conversations and company. I want to remember it, yet stick after stick my memories only become fainter.

I hate my medication because I started it at the worst time of my life, when I had no other choice but to take it. I told myself I took it because I didn’t want to kill myself when in reality I’d already died many times over.

I cut myself because it reminds me of familiar pain; A pain I know how to cope with. And it doesn’t matter how many white welts trace where I tried to bleed my lips blue, it gave me a peace of mind and that was all I needed at that point.

I’m a liar and I wouldn’t advise anyone on trusting me. But one thing I can never cover up is that, I’m a terrible, terrible person. I’m fucked up and I have all these bad habits coupled with warped and twisted ideas – I understand if no one can ever love me.

You, espicially you. Please don’t love me. You must not love someone, who doesn’t not even know how to love herself. 

So I Kind Of Had It Coming

I was scrolling through my emo-tumblr (What? I can’t be the only one.) and read posts from a while back. I only used that tumblr for short rants and sad posts so that was pretty much all it contained.

There weren’t many posts, not because I was happy most of the time(I wish) but because I’d rant on twitter if I could or if my rant was of 140 letters or less. I also had a tendency of forgetting about this blog so… Tsk, who wants to obsess over being sad?

Anyway, here’s a great example of why I need to document my life. Now that I look back at my not too pleasant past, I realized that I kind of had it coming.
I mean look at this. I so obviously know it would be a bad idea but I’m still in fucking denial.
Here’s one where I don’t even realize that I’ve already fallen. I had to applaud myself after reading that. Like, Bravo, Cherie. You’ve really gone and done it this time. You are so fucked.

I’m not sure if I deliberately fell or not. The only thing I remember was feeling really nice and light after I said goodnight to him.

Okay, I know myself well enough so I’d say I probably walked into that one. Doesn’t everyone do it too? The whole ‘I’ll start resisting him tomorrow’ mindset. Similar to ‘I’ll start my diet tomorrow’.
Then I start falling deeper and it just gets worst because the only thing I’ve ever known how to do in my life is emotionally abuse myself.
No one is around because you don’t want to hug anyone else but him, stupid girl.
Then the loneliness kicks in. I can safely say this is the first time I felt stomach-clenching loneliness. This kind of loneliness doesn’t really leave you, in fact I’m constantly reminded of it.
And there you have it. Everything pretty much slips away. I’d be on the side shouting ‘I TOLD YOU SO.’ but it’s not exactly effective when you’re against yourself.

So ladida-dida, a few cuts, scratches, bruises, poems, music and books, I’m here.

Twenty-fucking-thirteen and alone.

Was that the worst time of my life? If you’re talking about when he friend-zoned me, then yes. When he left, double yes. But hey, it wasn’t a too-awful ride, if you take note of the huge time gaps between posts, you should know that I had a really good time with him then.

And it’s actually the longest time I’d been happy.

But yeah, I sort of had it coming. I knew what I was up against, I knew my odds and went for it anyway because I thought I could handle it. I couldn’t. BUT HEY. At least I’d learnt one thing:

That love isn’t fucking overrated.

And that when they said being in love is magical and blind, they fucking meant it.

This is Cherie Sim and I approve this blog post.