Skip to main content

He got to laugh

My mum wants me to go into town with her to sort out my bank account.
I go only to avoid an argument.
I wear my shittest fattest clothes.
I look like a piece of shit, humiliated by my reflection, but its'll be two minutes in public then home to hide my ugly reflection away. I would never, ever go out looking like this on any normal occasion.

I walk right into my ex-boyfriend.
Not seen him since we broke up 3 years ago.
Panic attack. Sweating. Shaking. Retching.
Fists clenched like a murderer.
Knife, blood, help me cope.
Walked in the door and screamed.

I want to smash things up. I want to bleed into ecstasy.

He got to laugh at how ugly I am.


  1. Oh yuck, you poor thing. You can make yourself immaculate a million times in the hopes of bumping into an ex, but it only ever happens when you aren't expecting it and look your worst :(

    I just read the article about "normal women". Dress it up any way you like love. You are overweight and even if the odd chubby chaser wants to run his hands over your ripples, you are still at an increased risk of diabetes, heart disease, hypertension, cancer and GOD DAMN FREAKING UGLINESS.

    And you only have fewer wrinkles because your skin is so stretched. Wrinkles over stretch marks any day

  2. wah. poor girl. that sucks.
    so he actually saw you?

    you know what: lose them pounds and then meet him again (by accident of course) and he will bite his ass! :D


    Coming soon.

  4. don't worry,
    I'm sure you didn't look ugly.
    I hate going out now,
    incase I see people I know.
    they will see how fat I am,
    eugh, hope your okay,

  5. dont worry sweetheart, most of the time when we think we are at our worst everyone thinks we still look amazing.
    im sure he was kicking himself in the ass for not having you still.

  6. >.< I just had the gnarliest meeting with an ex, one who I'm still not over. It was at a party, I was so shitfaced, he had to carry me to the car I was riding in while bitching about how sucky at life I am. Ex boyfriends are so lame.
    Just try to knock his socks off, next time he sees you.


Post a Comment

Don't be anonymous, leave a name at least so I can identify you back :)

Popular posts from this blog


I have wanted to come back for a little while. So much has happened since my last post. Work colleagues mostly, a trial run with a boy from an app. Arthur, Francis, Gregory, Vincent, Russell, Simon R. Shoes that didn't fit. There are pages about them of course, not here, but in notebooks and scribbles on my phone written on my tube commute. Some indifference, some annihilation, all part of my continual journey.

In February, I met Thomas, and the turn began. We began dating in April, I was labelled his girlfriend in August, and he is the kindest man I have ever let into my life.

I went to Bali in March. Like the healing of the Nile, the energy pulsed deep into my cells and blood and I have not let it go yet. The vibrations of the gong still echoing in my ears, the sunrise still glowing in my heart, the peace and tranquillity in the silent hum of those green fields... I came back with a deep, divine knowledge, that I treasure, every time I am close to forgetting.

And now, I am train…

"Feeling 22, acting 17"

Except at 26, neither feeling 22 nor acting 17 is okay.

All the secrets I have to keep.

I can't tell anyone what I did last night. Except the whole world here, with my anonymous face.

Because I know I should be ashamed.

All week I had been thinking about Gareth. Thinking, longing, dreaming - at the expense of my work and my sanity.
But the strangest thing happened to my eating. No binges, no starving, no vomiting, just level-headed control. Was it the faux joy?

We spoke every day: whatsapp, office messenger, lunches in the bank restaurant and 'meetings' in the bank coffee shop, sessions in the gym and runs along embankment. No sense for being sensible and holding back, getting closer and closer. I wanted to be closer and closer. I kept thinking about having my hands on him. Fuck him. Fuck him for literally putting those thoughts firmly in my mind. And damn me for going back to being the fuck up I'd suppressed for so long.

It's no coincidence that my one-…

"Here I am, sane and dry"

"I stayed there, staring at myself in the glass. What do I want to cry about?.... On the contrary, it's when l am quite sane like this, when I have had a couple of extra drinks and am quite sane, that I realize how lucky I am.
Saved, rescued, fished-up, half drowned, out of the deep, dark river, dry clothes, hair shampooed and set. Nobody would know I had ever been in it. Except, of course, that there always remains something. Yes, there always remains something....Never mind, here I am, sane and dry, with my place to hide in. What more do I want?....I'm a bit of an automaton, but sane, surely - dry, cold and sane. Now I have forgotten about dark streets, dark rivers, the pain, the struggle and the drowning...."
Jean Rhys, Good Morning, Midnight