There I was.

Naked, and bare thought.

In the middle of the ocean.

I had gotten far enough to not see anyone,

Or anything,

But god and his creation.


Head and body against the waves,

I was at peace.

I was in a state of oblivion.

I rested in the water and let it take me,

As it pleased.

My ears heard nothing.

And my eyes slowly closed,

as black became a comfort.

I was where I wanted to be.

In a place where I couldn’t hear love.

I felt so at home,

That I wished for the sea to take me

Into it’s beautiful arms.


And never return me to love again.

A Short, Short Story…

As I lay on the cold, hard floor I stare into the white ceiling and wonder.. when will I begin to feel myself again? I suppose, never. Because some things just change a person indefinitely. So I pick myself up from the cold, hard floor but It doesn’t matter because I still don’t feel any warmth. I walk to my closet and put on my lucky cardigan and bring myself downstairs to begin my weekend morning ritual. Something about the weekends always made me feel so domestic, so in an attempt to regain myself, I do what I always do and begin making a huge breakfast and cleaning what I see needs to be cleaned.

When I’m done I put on the kettle  and wait to hear that whistle. I find my favorite mug, get a tea bag, and add some honey…. the usual. Then I sit down with my tea and put on a movie I’ve seen a million times. Yeah, I think Girl on the Train should do it. But I still don’t feel like me. So I ditch the TV and go upstairs to my room and on the way I pass a mirror. I feel startled as I see this wrecked girl in the reflection, who the fuck is that? God I look horrible. As I begin to start squishing my unrecognizable face, I hear my phone buzz. It’s Ava!! Shit, should I not answer this call? I don’t really feel like speaking to anyone. I pick up the phone with the friendliest voice I can find and say “Hi”.

Our conversation was short and sweet, as usual she’s just checking up on me. I should probably open up to SOMEONE about what I’m going through, but I just can’t seem to do it. Your best friend will always say, “You know I’m here for you, you can tell me anything” but some things you can’t even tell them. Some things you can’t tell anyone. Some things are so dark and so painful and so heartbreaking that you can’t possibly find the words to explain what they are. Even if I had the words I wouldn’t dare speak them, because saying it out loud would mean that it’s true. And I’m not ready to face the truth about this, maybe I’ll never be ready.

I look around my room and think of what I could do to pass some time. Oh I know! MUSIC!! My always and forever go to. A shower to accompany the music would be perfect, so I take off my clothes and head for the shower. I put my speaker on a volume between, loud enough to hear all of Sade’s ad-libs and low enough to not piss off my neighbors. Jezebel rings through the bathroom as I feel the hot water and steam all around me. Something about the Jazz in that song just triggers the deep deep thoughts inside my head and I break down. I think I cry until I can’t even produce any more waterworks. My eyes are sore, my head throbbing, and heart just pounding. It takes me a while but I finally step out of the shower, I feel borderline numb now.

I put on a new pair of never-worn pajamas and put on some fresh sheets for my bed. Then I draw the curtains, making sure It’s as dark as possible in this room so I don’t have to be interrupted by the light outside. I make sure to put my phone on do-not-disturb for the obvious reason. When my head finally hits the pillow, my brain starts speaking to me. All kind of things are said to me; “How could you do this”, “How could you be so stupid” ,” You’re going to regret this for the rest of your life”, “You’ll never forgive yourself” and on and on and on. I scream aloud for the voices to stop, “Stop torturing me, leave me alone, fucking stop!!!!”, but they continue for what seems like forever. Finally, I get exhausted from all the back and forth and begin to doze off, wishing that I’ll never have to wake up.

…….To be Continued……

Our loves

We are always told to find a nice partner who’ll become our soulmate and settle down. Meet a nice man, get married, and have babies is the expectation, right? I’ve even read an article that stated we may encounter three different kind of loves in our lifetime. The first is our baby love. It’s the first love we encounter and everything seems like perfection because we’re naive. Our second is our toxic love. Our toxic love is the recognition to the bad side of love, a little too bad. We are involved with someone or become someone who is possessive and jealous, maybe even abusive. The third and final is our logical love, it’s effortless, mature, and just works the way it should. But what about our other loves, our other kind of soulmate?… What about our best friends?


This made me think of my best friend. I found my soulmate when I was 12 years old. She was the funniest person I had ever met, the one who would pay for my pizza when I didn’t have money, and the one who would cover for me whenever I needed to sneak out. We rode our bikes together, lied to our parents together, and stayed out until midnight exploring the town. I remember those long late nights as kids, we thought we were on top of the world. We’d cry about life while laying on our backs, watching the stars. We experienced every heart break together and told each other everything. We shared our first hangover and stories of losing our virginity. She’s seen me neurotic, happy, and in times of desperation. Most importantly, she’s seen my growth. Is it safe to say that our best friends can become one of our loves as well?


I believe, yes. But it’s a different kind of love because it’s a different type of bond. A bond between women is like no other, it’s science. We are sisters, we are biologically compatible, we feel each other’s pain. So there’s always a part of us that we will never share with a man the way we share with our best friends. A very very special part of us. That’s why most of the time you’ll hear us say, losing a friendship is a greater loss than losing a man. Now, i’m not saying that a man is not important. He may play a significant role in your growth. You may find great love in a man, you may bare your body and soul to him. He may see things in you and evoke things in you that you never knew existed. But there are things you will go through that he will simply not be able to understand or relate to, (especially if he’s the one causing the trouble). I know for me, when I am going through something so intense, I crave the arms of my partner. But it is my best friend’s voice,  my soulmate who I met when I was 12 years old, that I need to comfort me.


Article : https://www.readunwritten.com/2016/12/14/3-types-love-will-lifetime/