Just whatever…

So, now that I have you hooked with that thoroughly captivating title, let’s have a talk. Just me and the bountiful audience of three. Recently I’ve been going through a renaissance of sorts. And by that I mean I’m not the wee child I was…let’s see…half a year ago. Has it really been that long

Kitchen essentials: Anxiety & trauma

Okay, so first off, I’m not trying to infiltrate the cook blog niche. With that being said, let’s dive into today’s episode of The Great British bake off, but with a twist. All the contestants participating have to have a moderate to severe anxiety disorder. In my kitchen, I allow ( and even encourage) my

You’re in an abusive relationship with yourself

How do you treat yourself? Do you find yourself blaming that less assertive, innocent and soft spoken part of yourself whenever you’re under stressful situations? Do you use buzz words like ‘Stupid’ ‘Dumb’ ‘Hopeless’ ‘Pathetic’ and a slew of other synonyms for ‘I hate myself’ rather frequently? Well, if you do (and please for the

Tinder, Tinder, who’s the fittest of them all…?

Hey! It’s your favourite unhinged and self loathing writer! And boy do I have a doozy for my dear readers today. So I was tinder swiping one fine morning. You know, one of those Monday mornings where you’re bored out of your minds because you don’t have a job, aren’t studying and no discernable hobbies

Dirty but finished- A poem (and a little bit of self realisation worth sharing at the end)

I’m a finished piece of art,A dirty canvasAnd no space left for you to correct it,Not a perfect sculptureBut atleast all my parts are still attached,If you try to make changes, I’ll only fall apart;Too late to mould me into something I’m not,Too late to mould me into something you’d someday want,I’m sorry I hurt

Expect nothing, hope for everything

Hi. It’s me again. Your internet friend who flickers on and off more than a candle in the wind. Sorry, I have some severe abandonment issues to work through. Anyways, the doom and gloom aside, let’s get on with today’s post! Okay, so just by a show of ghostly- interweb-hands, how many of y’all remember

You were wrong- A poem

They say looks are decievingYou’ve proved them wrongYou’re just who you wereLike you said in your songsBut how you betrayed meThen made me feel smallIs weak and patheticAnd I hope that you knowYou were so fucking wrongYou were so fucking wrong And I’m not living in the pastMore than you’re living in the futureSomeday you’ll

A dream that breathes- A poem

There is not a single thing I want more,Than to rest a little before I’m readyBut there’s no rest for me,There is Santa Monica right in front of me,But just a tad out of reach,All I need is one big leap There could be eighty million martians, Conspiring against my innovations,But they’re no match for

Love is war

Someone loves me. I know someone does. I mean someone must, right? Wrong. It’s never that easy with love. There is no right or wrong answer. It’s never black or white. It isn’t even gray for chrissakes. It’s an whole different spectrum of colours. It’s like a little kid splattering paint all over the canvas.

December, a story…

The city was painted a dull, gray, throbbing entity by the freezing rain that had drenched the cold winter morning. Smoke rolled out of the chimneys of comfortable houses with comfortable furniture and comfortable children. London was merry. With Christmas only a few days away, people were enjoying their holidays with lush wine and the