You Goddamn Coward

Three years have gone past and I still remember you.
I still remember the smell of your cologne, it works as a trigger for flashbacks.
I still remember your smile, very Grinch alike.

I still remember how you made me feel. How you worked your magic and groomed me. Yes, three years have gone by and I still remember.

I still remember how I felt when you threatened, blackmailed, and used me for your own selfish benefits.

I was young, I was naive. I was unexperienced in so many aspects of life and you were a figure of power, someone to look up to, someone who should have never taken advantage of any of us.

Yes, us. Now I know it wasn’t just me. But there is nothing I can do about it. I’ve finally stopped feeling powerless, after three years. I’ve learnt to move on and feel okay. But your cowardice transcends it all.

Yes. You are a coward. A goddamn coward and I believe in karma, which will kiss you one day.

Two Years Later…

With a knife close to my neck he said, “I own you. Dare to scream. Just dare”. There I was, standing between the wall and his body. I was hardly breathing, dazed and confused. “I bet you are all wet now, I bet you’re loving this”, he whispered still holding that damn knife closer and closer to my neck.

African-American-Woman-Crying-Tears-sylvia-browderThe door was open and I could hear people in the other room. I could hear movement and a part of me kept wishing that someone would decide to get up for a cuppa, for a fag, for a break of some kind. But no one got up, no one had a break and there I was… alone with that monster who was an expert in emotional abuse. As for the other part of me? Well, it was too embarrassed to want anyone see someone who came across as such a strong and dominant woman being a victim of such abuse. I was ashamed.

Two years have gone by and I still cannot forget this. Two whole years have gone by and this memory is vivid as if it had happened yesterday. I can still remember and write about his red and white shirt, his jeans and black shoes. I can still talk about his cologne which although the name fails me, I can smell it from a distance and I do shiver whenever someone walks past me smelling like that.

For the past few days I found myself drinking and struggling to cope. But I have no one to talk to about this because no one knows this was happening. I struggle to trust anyone enough to tell them and I am exploding inside every day. I’m losing myself and I am terrified. I am losing it. This time of the year is just too hard.

Finally Over 🎉🎆

For the past year and so, I felt so lost into one person that would practically control every aspect of me whenever we were together. Although he never harmed me, I would feel weak around him. My entire personality of a dominant woman and slight control freak would change into a weak person whose will would never be important enough. He always came first and I was always okay with it, in fact, I encouraged this behaviour with the aim to satisfy him. Making him happy somehow would make me happy. However, every now and then, I’d wake up to reality, break things up and go back to my life. Somehow, after some time (weeks, at some point months) he would contact me and I would go back crawling to him like that weak and miserable persona that I would always turn to. I never understood how he had so much power over me. I never understood why I would always prioritise him when in fact, it’s wrong. When you have such a rotten foundation, there is absolutely no point in trying to move forward because the future will be as ugly if not worse.

Today I am happy. Today I managed to feel free from him in a different way where he is no longer the ghost I keep writing about. The ghost who keeps haunting me. I sent him a goodbye text and blocked his number. I also marked it as a spam number just in case there’s a glitch of some kind and a text or call comes through, by being marked as spam, I will never get a notification for it. I deleted his number and I said my goodbyes. I think it’s finally over. I think I am finally free from this person.

What was I waiting for
Waiting for the bubble to burst
Over your stagnant pauses
Can’t cure what your devil don’t see
Or light a fire below the death of me
We’ve shot through all over our causes
Days spin through my heart
That sever the love
Kill all the pain with shame
I won’t be lost without you
I’ve found a way to get through
Now I’m up and running
Strong enough to walk away
And leave you all alone
I won’t be lost
What were you waiting for
Waiting for the straw to break
Over the back of desperate ways
You were a dream to me
Now you’re nothing but a heart
that bleeds
I’ll wash you off and carry on
Days spin through my heart
That sever the love
Kill all the pain with shame
I won’t be lost without you
I’ve found a way to get through
Now I’m up and running
Strong enough to walk away
And leave you all alone
I won’t be lost

And when I see you
I find another reason
To keep myself from getting lost in you
Skin – Lost

Things I Never Wrote About…

I never wrote about my summer holidays. I never wrote about my experiences visiting good old Holland and seeing friends that I hadn’t seen in almost a decade. I never wrote about going back to my original country and seeing even more friends. I never wrote about how much fun I had behaving like a tourist in the city I was born and pretend I could not speak the language when I am native and definitely still fluent despite my English skills surpassing my native idiom. I never spoke about the sunshine, the deep blue sea, the colourful flowers, the canals, the river, the smells, the food and most importantly, the people.

I never wrote about my professional life. I never wrote about how fed up I am with my job and how eager I feel to move onto something new whilst pretending that I am thrilled to be working where I do. I never wrote about feeling as though as I have reached my optimum at work and my manager, despite all attempts, cannot provide me any insights or support because he is not qualified or experienced to manage me. I never wrote about smiling every single time I am asked if I am pleased at work whilst keeping my LinkedIn profile updated and now in the process of also updating my CV (or résumé as some may call it). I never wrote about the job that I accidentally found that I will be applying for even though it’s a temporary booking with unknown contract duration at the moment – I have contacted the HR team for further information.

I never wrote about my academic life. I never wrote about how overwhelmed I currently feel about writing my assignment when I am dealing with so much internal drama. I know I have to write it and the clock is ticking, but I cannot focus. Every sentence written feels like a razor cutting through my bare skin. Overdramatic? Perhaps, but the assignment is based on my workplace, yes, the one I mentioned above that I am particularly unhappy about. How to write something professional and unbiased when you simply do not like it? It’s hard to keep personal thoughts aside when writing in business style but what needs to be done, needs to be done. I never wrote about my exam and being awarded distinction, possibly my biggest achievement of the year especially because I thought I had failed. My mother says I am always too hard on myself, I wonder who’s fault is that.

I never wrote about forcing myself to date. I never wrote about dating apps that resulted in meeting rather awkward people that made me feel even more antisocial than before. Who can blame me? Some people are so weird they make me feel normal. I never wrote about the one guy who spoke about politics and history in the entirety of our first (and only) date, who kept trying to rub my shoulder despite all visual cues to stay the hell away – I hate being touched by strangers. I never wrote about the one who tried to get me drunk because he could not find a way to kiss me whilst sober – I hate being touched by bloody strangers. Or the one who kept talking about his ex-girlfriend and how I am so intelligent for someone my age, or how focused I am for someone my age. The irony behind it all? He did not understand why I was not interested on going out for a second date and finished my stating that if I wanted sex, I could have simply asked for it but I did not look like one of ‘those’ girls. They wonder why they are still single… I wonder why bother with online dating.

I never wrote about my short summer romance. I never wrote about meeting someone who made me smile, made me engage in a conversation and genuinely enjoy their presence which lately seems to be quite rare. I never wrote about how he helped me temporarily forget my ghost and simply enjoy life, feel lighter and happy. He was fun, interesting and smart. Shockingly my age – I’m used to only be interested in men at least 3 years older than me. A sweet surprise, to be held in the middle of a busy street to dance, with his left hand on my lower back and his right holding my hand. I never wrote about going for random walks and order different dishes at restaurants with the aim to share and try different things together. It was fun, but it ended because everything fun ends so much faster… And so he had to leave, he had to go and although we keep in touch, he’s far and he never fully took my memories of that other ghost away. That one doesn’t seem to ever go.

I never wrote about my ghost. The one that seems to drive all my thoughts, all my daydreams, all my hopes and dreams. I never wrote about how I felt so close to the end of our chapter and he said all the things he knew I would want to hear, starting a whole new chapter again. I never wrote about my ghost, as if he was ever truly mine. The one that always hurts me and I always feel stupid enough to get back running whenever he asks me to. Yes, the one that I want but cannot have. The one I am trying my hardest to stay away from but haven’t succeeded just yet. I don’t enjoy writing about him that much anymore because it aches from inside out, I guess only my emails to Riccardo feel okay these days, but even then I struggle to stay away from that darkness that I always feel he understands.

I never wrote about my family. I never wrote about that one family member who was horrible to me and seems to be proof that karma exists. That one family member who eventually was diagnosed with a strong personality disorder which put her in the edge of wanting to commit suicide. I never wrote about how that friend who actually did commit suicide brought back many nightmares that I did not think would ever come back. I guess certain things cannot be put to rest. I never wrote about my darkest thoughts that seem to have been augmented after her suicide. The whys that will never be answered alongside all other questions that her family probably have burning them inside out. The frustration, the anger, the lack of understanding, the sadness…

I never wrote about my emotional well-being. I never wrote about how I am queen of appearances, after all, I’ve only been sugarcoating my entire life. I never wrote about constantly moving from apathetic to feeling blue but I keep the smiles and the laughter and no one can see through it. They see the smile and the constant support, love and care that I have to give but no one sees my concerns, my fears, my inability to feel human. I cannot blame them, I’m good at pretending and they can only see what I allow them to and it’s not much. I never wrote about how I accessed my external hard drive to look for some e-books and how I ended up finding an old diary. That old diary, the only I believe to have ever kept in my life, has a lot of anxiety. I skim-read a few pages and could feel the negativity and the anxiety. Four years ago my doctor tried to get me to accept therapy for what she thought was panic attacks and stress. Four years later, I have never seen a counsellor, a therapist, or discussed this with any GPs. I don’t want help, not yet anyway. I can handle it. I felt a lot worse in the past, nothing is stopping me from moving forward.

I never wrote about that time where I was close to deleting this blog. Sugar was going to disappear like all of the other hundreds of blogs I have had in my life. I never wrote about how I was close to giving up on this again simply because I could not write. But look at it now, 1386 words and still counting but these are merely the things I never wrote about. The things that needed to come out, the things that need to be out there even though I will be surprised if anyone will actually read this mini-essay. Needless to say it won’t be edited/proofread.

Bless you all, take care.

Waiting Is All You Can Do

Would I be any happier if things had been different? If we had met in a different time and different circumstances, would the outcome also differ? There are still so many questions unanswered that we both know will forever remain as assumptions. Despite our attempts to read between the lines and understand each other, we never truly succeeded. We never truly understood each other.

I lied, countless times. I lied to you and most importantly, to myself… but how could I tell you that I love you? I tried to show you but I don’t know if you ever felt it. But… I do love you. There, I said it. I love your strangeness, your scent, your unusual ways, your smile, your touch, you in your entirety. Maybe one day you will realise that you could have loved me. Maybe one day I will get over you and realise that maybe I never truly loved you, but the idea of you. Waiting is all you I can do.

Started writing this post back in July… finished writing today (last paragraph) and somehow it is all still applicable.


A lot has happened since I came back from my holidays. My original plan was to write a post about the trips and share my experiences alongside some photos. However, that’s the main problem with plans, they sometimes do not follow through. Things have been difficult for many many reasons and I managed to lose some interest in this blog. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that I have been learning to control myself and my emotions a lot more without needing this blog as my escape, as my coping mechanism. However, here I am today, 00:23 writing when I need to get up earlier to go see the doctors before work.

RIP650The thing is, today I found out that a friend committed suicide approximately three weeks ago, yes, three weeks ago. None of our common friends were aware of what had happened till today and we are all shocked. I had known her for two years and I witnessed her mental health decaying, I also witnessed her seeking support and being hospitalised. It was not easy, especially when we are talking about a woman in her early 30s. A beautiful person inside out, sweet, polite, considerate, supportive of others. She made me smile countless times. I saw her at the end of July just before going away on holidays and she was looking better, her eyes still had some sparkle despite being slightly wide whenever she spoke. She seemed to be under medication but she managed to recognise me on a London bus. If you have heard or seen anything about London’s public transportation, you will know that recognising people sometimes can be tough. But she saw me, she approached me and we spoke for a short time. She told me how she was feeling better and had so many plans for her life and her children’s life. Yes, she was a mother of three.

I’m still in denial. I struggle to accept how she would reach such a level of sadness and depression when she still had plans and was eager to talk about them. That last hug now feels painful. It hurts because I wish I could have done something to help her. I know it was completely out of my hands and she must have been so desperate to think that death was the only way out, she was so in love with her children, she cared so much for them… I cannot understand why she did this and I know I will never fully understand it. How could I? How could anyone understand when we will never know the struggles she was facing every single day of her life. This entire situation makes me wonder how many people are in pain and feel they cannot speak up despite having friends and family around. How many people must feel that there is no other way… I just wish she had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, her children need her, they will always miss mum and live with her suicide over their shoulders, haunting them. Finding out about her death three weeks after was also terrifying on its own. Why did it take us so long to find out. Why? We all have so many questions that will remain unanswered. No one will ever know the truth.

Rest in Paradise beautiful.