A conversation with myself

You don’t deserve her


Don’t drag her into your world.

She is doing just fine on her own. She doesn’t need you or anyone.

She is a strong and powerful woman. She can’t be bent or broken.


Unless you let her in. Unless you drag her in.

Into your life. Into your world. Into your mess. Into your quiet little hell that you pretend isn’t there.

Don’t drag her in.

Don’t drag her in because as strong as she is, as determined and bulletproof as she has struggled her whole life to become …

You will be the thing that breaks her.

You will do what you always do because you are as brilliant as you are broken.

You will learn her.

You will know her.

You might even love her.

And then brick by brick you will deconstruct her.

You will take her down bit by bit until she is bare, leaving her completely vulnerable.

Then, once you have had your fun. Once you have gotten what you needed.

Once you have gotten what you wanted.

You will cast her aside.

You will break her.

Like taming a beautiful wild horse.

You will have taken away all of the things that made her beautiful in the first place.

Then when she is no longer beautiful you will simply cast her aside.

Because you are you.

Because you are broken.

So just don’t.

Don’t let her in.

Don’t drag her in to your world.

Don’t drag her down with you.

You don’t deserve her.

Why does it hurt?

Why does it hurt me so much to love you?

Why, when I think about you, am I so heavy hearted?

It makes me weak to think of you.

Weak minded like I couldn’t resist you if I wanted to. And I want to. But I cannot.

Weak bodied as if you take the air out of my lungs and the strength out of my legs when your body touches mine.

Weak willed as though I’m addicted to you. I’ve tasted your euphoria and now, no matter how hard I try to resist I am helplessly drawn to you in moments of weakness.

So why does it hurt me? Why does loving you make me experience such intense, almost physical pain?

Why does loving you make me feel so empty?

Why do I let you hurt me like you do?


Why don’t you want me? Am I not enough?

You torture me with your allure. You tease me with your presence. You know that you have this power over me. You use it to control me. To contort me. To bend me to your will. To make me yours.

You know what you do to me.

So why?

Why don’t you love me ?

I want you

I want you.

But I want you for all of the wrong reasons.

I want you because I am hideous and you are beautiful.

I want you because when I am alone all I want to do is cry but when I am with you all I do is laugh and smile.

I want you because I hate myself but I want to love you.

I want you because I hate myself but I can make you happy.

I want you because I hate myself but I don’t hate you.

I want you because there is an enormous, gaping hole in my heart that all of my light and happiness is uncontrollably pouring out of, but you …. you make me feel whole.

I want you because I hate myself but …

I want you because … I hate me.


I started writing to try and understand what was going on in my head. I started off with a pen and pad that sat next to my bed. I would write in it as I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling and I would try to unravel the curious thoughts dancing around in my head at night. The more I wrote the more I wanted to write and after a while the book I wrote in came with me everywhere I went. I initially thought that it was just a tool to express myself. I only found myself more profoundly confused than I had ever been before when some of these thoughts crept out of my mind. I thought that I was just rambling like an idiot until I shared these words with some close friends of mine. They helped me understand how my words mattered.

Some of what I write is completely abstract, some things will make sense and some things are just fresh out of my mind nonsense.

I hope that other people can find something relatable in the words that I write and I hope that that helps in some small way.

I know you

Against all almost incomprehensible odds, we are here

This is going to sound grim but life is a lie and nothing means anything. The world that we live in is a product of random chance. A series of completely randomized events occurred and became the catalyst for an ideal environment that eventually allowed for our reality to form around us. Nothing designed it. No omnipotent being made that happen. We are simply the result of a random process inside of an unconscious system. Heat, bacteria, an ideal atmosphere, a few billions years and everything in between would lead us to right now.

Right now. Where against all almost incomprehensible odds, we are here. Every single event that has randomly transpired since the dawn of our existence has occurred in such a specific sequence of events, in such an absolutely obscure and amazingly specific series of random occurrences, that this world we live in has allowed us to exist next to each other at the same time. On the same planet. In the same country. In the same city. On top of all of that, we were able to find each other. Able to know each other. Able to become friends.

Against all odds.
I know you.