28 September 2011

'Does your disability stop you from sucking c-ck?' and other online dating disasters

This post contains many instances of the word fuck. And cock too. They're not my words, only quotes. If this sort of language offends you, don't read on. But I suggest you do for a laugh and a cringe.

We no longer have to audition for a reality TV show to be rejected, ridiculed and harassed. We can get the experience using an online dating site. Who knew this sort of humiliation and superficiality would come so easily?

So I reinstated my online dating profile. As a friend told me, the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone. Or on top. Whatever you prefer. I signed up to a free site - hell, it's well and truly justified why I won't pay for this experience. Maybe that's what I am doing wrong. Maybe I should pay for better members?

I'll say this up front. I haven't actually been on any dates. I nearly had one. We texted for two weeks. He was nice. And then nothing. With most of them, I just can't seem to get past their ridiculous online nature.

In the online dating world, words have double meanings. Fun means sex. Looking after yourself means slim and probably hair free. Easy going means lazy. Laid back means apathetic. And accepting usually means they're not. And people are VERY bad spellers.

I have stated that I have a disability on my profile. I have used my picture. Not photoshopped. The real me. This often results in instant rejection. I am not their type. But it's usually when I manage to be 'accepted' by another member that the problems arise.

Here is my profile

Never judge a book by its cover. Or a girl by her disability. If you take the time to get to know me, you will find out I am one of the most fabulous, fun and interesting people you will ever meet. I am a stylish, kind hearted and outgoing writer and TV presenter seeking friendship, romance and love.

I am a friendly, outgoing woman living in Melbourne and enjoy good food, cooking, comedy, seeing live bands, movies and fashion. I love to write - I keep a blog where I review concerts and restaurants.

I work full time as an events planner, and am a freelance writer and community TV presenter on the side. I am passionate about making a difference in the disability community.

I am very happy in life and am seeking that special someone to share it with. I am not your average girl.

Just by the by - I saw and avoided two members who had interesting profiles. One wrote "Are you retarded because you look pretty special to me?'. And  another was called 'Gspotstimulator'. Classy.

While I have managed to filter through some nasties to chat to some quite nice men (usually the more alternative types), the majority have just been weird. The ones that initially seem ok often are socially inept, isolated or unemployed. And the confident ones...wow.

I have  had two members tell me they want to marry me. They don't want a girlfriend. Just want a wife.

And the rudeness. Wow. I am astounded. It's like the site gives people permission to behave like complete pricks. Of course, they are thinking with their penis. And so all manners are left in the 'real world'. If these men were saying the things they do online in the 'real world', they'd be up for sexual harassment, or perhaps assault. It is appalling. And sometimes laughable. Men are throwing myself at me. Not in a good way. None are my Prince charming.

Most members are just after sex. Or 'fun'. And so this desire gives them licence to ask whether I masturbate, whether they are the hottest man I've ever seen, whether they can show me themselves on webcam ("you make me sad :(" when I said no.), whether they can meet me between 7-9 to discuss sex or marriage, and whether my disability still means I can suck cock. Yep. All true stories. And yes, I have deleted and blocked all of those members.

The conversation that takes the cake was this one. A rather cute guy said he liked my profile. Good start, I thought.

I told him what I do. My day job. That I am a writer and a TV presenter. He said, probably ignoring what I told him, "are you interested in meeting up for some sex?". No. 

Then he said "I may want a relationship in the future, but for starters, I just wanna fuck you".

Wow. Flattering. Forward. Gross.

He asked me what I did again. I told him again. A writer and a TV presenter.

"Now I really wanna fuck u" he said. "I have never fucked a TV presenter before. That would be fucken mad as".


And then he asked for my number, and said "I have seriously never fucked anyone famous".

Charmer.  Be still my beating heart.

Share your online dating horror stories with me. 

25 September 2011

If you can't say anything nice...

I was recently at an event with my parents, not knowing many other guests there, surrounded by pretty young things wearing gorgeous dresses. I glammed up for the occasion too - my pink Cinderella skirt from St Frock, and my silver jacket and floral top that I wore to the AusBlogCon (though I always seem to feel really overdressed due to the amount of layers I need to wear!).

While I was talking in hushed tones with my Mum about how beautifully dressed some of the girls were, it turned out some of those beautifully dressed girls were talking in hushed tones about me too.

Later on in the night, after a few wines, I went to the toilet, and got talking to a girl I met on the way. We talked through the toilet walls, small talk - that we liked the food, that the event was a great one, that our shoes were killing us.

Then, out under the fluorescent lights as we washed our hands, the girl turned to me, looked closely, and said "so what happened?". What happened to my face, she meant? "I was born this way", I told her. "And what happened", she asked again. Drunk people can be hard to reason with. "I was born like this, that's what happened", I told her, again.

She asked me if it was a skin condition, I said yes, and I told her the name. Drunk people are also quite honest. "I thought it was a skin condition", she said. And then she added "The people I am with were arguing about whether it was a burn, or sunburn all day".

Right. So while I was probably complimenting some of those girls, they were discussing my appearance.

I know this happens. People ask me all the time. People stare. People ask friends or family or colleagues what is "wrong" with me. it's curiosity. But I didn't even think people would be spending more than a few seconds thinking or commenting about my appearance or discussing appearance in general in a negative way. Certainly not when there's so much beauty and fabulous personalities and wonderful acts of kindness to compliment. And I thought about the shallowness of being so image focused.

I went back into the room happily laughing with the girl I met in the toilet. We went on to discuss the cute boys in the room, arms linked like old friends. She wasn't meaning harm. But it our toilet discussion left me feeling a little self conscious, and got me thinking.

Is it ever appropriate to negatively comment on someone's appearance (how they look or dress, or their race or disability)?

When I think about my own behaviour, I can guiltily admit that there has been times when I've said quietly to a friend "what is she wearing??", or even made a comment about someone's weight. I know. I shouldn't. But it is rare. And the comments never turn into a conversation. It's an instant reaction, and I wouldn't then give their appearance a second thought. And I'd certainly never make judgment about someone's face, disability or race. Never.

My Twitter friends gave me their opinion about the appropriateness of commenting on appearance (and their opinions made me proud):
@mscurlypops: my motto is that if you can't say something nice then say nothing at all!

@KITsDad: No. Unless they're a hipster, then go for it.

@keepcatebusy: don't undrstd why any1 would ever want 2 say something nasty abt some1 else. Ppl only do that 2 make themselves feel superior
@_jaime_: when they're wearing socks and thongs -yes. :)

@: No. Have your opinion, but don't voice it - if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all!

@: Never. It seems a lot of people lack basic manners. x

@: If their fly is undone or tag hanging out = yes. If you don't like their shoes or think they look slutty = no.

@: never appropriate. Ever. "if you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all is old maxim" So hope not 2 u

I tweeted to Sydney Shop Girl "Seriously, when did negatively discussing someone's appearance outside of gossip mags become a valid topic of conversation??"

Glossy mags thrive on the way celebrities look. They criticise, point out 'flaws' and persuade readers to aspire to an ideal. Too thin, too fat, too much cellulite, acne scars, best diets, beauty treatments are the secret to happiness. Hell, even my appearance was (positively) highlighted in a women's mag. Image sells.

I was thinking about the way we encourage positive body image in the media. The National Body Image Advisory Group, chaired by Mia Freedman, is an Australian Government initiative, "committed to tackling negative body image from a national perspective, by helping young Australians to build confidence and resilience against the body image pressures that they face.”. The group recently launched new initiatives to promote healthy body image in Australia. These initiatives include the establishment of a voluntary code of conduct for the fashion, media and advertising industries.

The discussion of my appearance at this event made me wonder how far the media has come with portraying a diverse range of people realistically. And wondered whether the media is still giving the public permission to discuss and criticise peoples' flaws. Like the colour of my skin.

It's never ok to negatively comment on the way someone looks. Even telling someone they look tired may be taken as criticism. If you are going to comment on someone's appearance, tell them they look beautiful. Compliments are fare nicer to give people. And I think it's about time the media starts paying more compliments to celebrities' appearances, instead of criticising them. Perhaps this act by the media will mean every day people will be less critical of those who look different.

20 September 2011

Bern Morley asks me the tough questions.

My good friend Bern Morley did an interview with me and featured it on her blog last week. Read all the lovely things she wrote about me here.

Bern is a blogging idol, but above that, a wonderful friend. Thank you for coming into my life, Bern.

And this is what I call lazy blogging. Reproducing the interview here. Not really lazy, considering I opened up to Bern about love, sex and shedding skin.


Four I guess, maybe five, but I can’t define the fifth one. Though I loved the fifth more than anyone before.

I guess they've all been problematic - the boys have often had bigger issues of their own then my skin condition. I have been asked if I've settled for people with disabilities because of mine. No, but I have settled for douchebags. 

There was the guy who lied about his whole life, two unemployed ones, one addicted to painkillers who had an alter ego, and one extremely troubled man. Charmers! But I saw good in all of them at the time, sometimes beyond. Sometimes I think when people have bad attributes, the good shines through, like a silver lining.

And there have been a lot of unrequited loves. I loved my best friend for about three years. I'd watch the footy, bored out of my brain, just to be with him! He and I shared a moment, but he told me I was "too fucking special" to him to take things further. Devastating.

Sometimes when I have had a boyfriend I feel like letting those who doubted I ever would have one know. "I've found love! I've had sex! And you never thought I would!" hahaha!


I like a man who will treat me right, is compassionate, understanding and accepting, is intelligent, makes a difference in the world even if it's just a small thing like helping a stranger, and who can have a laugh. 

Physically I like a man who is taller than me, nice eyes and big smile. I like a bit of scruff - a beard is cute. 

When I was younger I really liked boys with long hair and piercings, but I don't know if those characteristics work well now I'm looking in the 25-35 age bracket! I once had a boyfriend with 11 piercings, a chain that went from his nose to ear rings, and had long plaits with a shaved top of head. 

Celebrity ideal men – Callan Mulvey! Sam Johnson. Hamish Blake. Brendan Cowell. Caleb Followill from Kings of Leon


Sharing my day with someone. 

Being held at night. 
Knowing things only "we'd" know.


Being touched doesn't hurt all the time, except when my skin is really sore. I guess the biggest challenge is being comfortable enough to let someone see my whole body. I'm happy with my shape and size - I got some great assets! But I worry about how they'll react to my skin shedding.

That's probably a big factor in me preferring to be intimate with someone I love and trust, and who is understanding, rather than casual encounters. Sometimes I wish I was more inclined to pursue casual encounters, but the emotional effort for me is so great when starting any relationship that I'd rather expend the energy cultivating a more meaningful relationship. 


Usually it starts with words. I fall for a good vocabulary and articulate writing. I think I had one relationship or whatever it was, based on a year of words (texts, emails, phone calls) and three days physical contact. 
Maybe it is because most of my relationships have started with the Internet.

Words are hard though - you only get a 2 dimensional perspective of the person. It is easy to forget they may have values that you don't agree with. And you can also conjure up an ideal.

I think If I have a connection to someone via words, the physical attraction heightens. With Jake*, I hardly took notice of his looks initially, it was all about his thoughts and words. And perhaps because of our connection I thought he was one of the most beautiful looking men I had ever seen.  


I have tried many, particularly when I moved to Melbourne. I'm in two minds about them whenever I use them. I want men to get to know me for my fabulousness, but even online there's a superficiality, and despite being honest about my skin and writing about all the great things I do in my life, if they don’t like the way I look, or don't like that I have a chronic illness, they won't get to know me. Even despite their profile listing that they want a girl who is different, and they have a kind heart.

Sometimes I think as 'open minded' people say they are, disability and chronic illness can be too confronting for them. It's like being in a very competitive catalogue.

I have met a few of my boyfriends online though. One on a dating site. The others on ICQ and Facebook - and one at the train station (I dumped him on a train too!)  It's hard to be honest when communicating with someone from an online dating site without it sounding like I'm pleading for acceptance.


The worst:

"your looks and illness are too much of a burden on me" - an Internet date. Didn't go past the first date. 

"didn't I tell you I don't love you anymore" - an ex boyfriend

The best:

My second boyfriend used to be very protective of me and would often be very defensive if people stared or commented. It was chivalrous, but got annoying when he'd be more confrontational than the starer!!

It's also been nice being told "I love you". (of course)

"You are the person I admire the most. Not my favourite rock stars or sports personalities. YOU.
99% of the time I see your posts they are very constructive and mostly of some joy.
I wish I had the courage that you have.

I wish you everything Carly. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met.
When I see the pics of you smiling, it makes me smile."


I don't think it's a break up because as I said, this thing has been so hard to define. (Darren Hayes once sang "how do yo redefine something that never really had a name?") But it is certainly I love/d him more than I have ever felt, and now I feel it's a loss and I feel like I'm grieving.

I discovered I don't have any uplifting songs. They all feel like they've been written about or for me!
Gotye's Somebody I used to know and Adele someone like you have fitting words for the situation.

Darren Hayes - Bloodstained Heart - it feels like he's giving me a hug with this song

Bertie Blackman - Television - I can just relate to the lyrics where she wants to be like everyone else, she wants to fit in, be loved.


Don't be afraid of the way I look. Take a chance and get to know me to find out I'm more than just a red face. And I hope that you can see my beauty - inner and outer. I am a great cook, love music and will make you laugh. And my boobs are pretty good too! 

15 September 2011

We all have wings but some of us don't know why

I am not a religious person, but thanks to some strong support from great friends, and a spiritual analogy, I did some thinking, and I've come to this:

For a while there it felt like it was too big to be a part of. I felt out of my depth in a big adult world. I had some lyrics from a yet to be released Darren Hayes song in my head - “I want to run away from this, but I won't leave a sinking ship”. I wanted to run away at times, but I didn't. I am not that type of person. For a little while I became very important to someone.

I've now gone from being very important to someone, to nothing. Intense, regular contact to nothing. No more text or email alerts. Nothing. Now I feel broken and heavy hearted, and a keeper of dark secrets. I wondered whether it was healthy having so much contact and being so open with each other, when it was always in the back of my mind that one day he wouldn't need me anymore. That day came. And I am devastated. Heartbroken.

For the past two and a bit weeks, I've been so sad. And angry. Fragile. Like a second choice. Left wondering. Feeling used. Worthless. Replaced. I struggle to believe my feelings are valid, because I don't think I've lost anything tangible. What was between us is so hard to define. I guess we both made each other feel good. 

When I am alone it hurts. When I am with people, doing important things at work, my mind wanders to places it shouldn't. My eyes regularly well with tears and my head throbs on the verge of crying. I've questioned my usual fierce independence, wondering if I too have some sort of dependency disorder.

I go to sleep, so tired with unexplained grief foreign to me until now, hoping that when I wake I won't think of him as much as the day before. And then I wake up, body heavy, and my everything is sad, knowing that I'm not on his mind anymore.

I gave so much of myself, and I don't know if I can ever do that again. While just loving him was enough for me, and wishing him happiness, it really hurts when it's at the cost of my own happiness.

I've thought for hours, cried so much, and come to no conclusion. I don't feel like I deserve to feel like this when I was just being a good person. The comfort I have found has come through some surprising spiritual enlightenment.

My Mum told me I can be proud that I helped to save a life. My friend told me I played such an important role in helping to get his life back on track. “Maybe that's why you came to know each other”, she said. “and as hard as it is for you, perhaps that's what you're relationship with him was - you're like an angel that came into his life just at the right time”.
Maybe he came into my life for a reason too. It's been complicated from the start. But knowing him has taught me about human suffering. Reaffirmed my own values. And shown me what loving someone unconditionally feels like. 

And maybe that is what I was. Some sort of angel. If it can make me see some positivity in all of this sadness, just for a few minutes a day, then maybe I'll believe the angel analogy.

“I got nothing’ darling
All I’ve got are broken wings
A little love means everything”
~ Hand Me Downs - Bob Evans

Post script - I saw this poem online, I think it relates to the situation very well.

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.
When you figure out which one it is,
you will know what to do for each person.

When someone is in your life for a REASON,
it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty;
to provide you with guidance and support;
to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend, and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be.

Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a SEASON,
because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.
They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Believe it. It is real. But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons;
things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.
Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person,
and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.

Thank you for being a part of my life,
whether you were a reason, a season or a lifetime. 

13 September 2011



Strength is often perceived as a symptom of disability. If one can endure the everyday difficulties of having a disability, they must be strong. It's the 'super-crip' labeling. If one can simply go out and get the newspaper with a smile on their face, they must be strong. If one can cope with an affliction that so many others believe they couldn't endure, they must be strong. It is rather condescending when perceived strength is spelled out like that.

A blogger friend, The Chaser, wrote me some beautiful words of support last week. They gave me encouragement and reminded me of my strength. They weren't condescending, and spoke the truth. A true observation made by someone that has never met me:

"People somehow think that since you deal with this illness you are strong enough to handle everything they have as well. They lean on you. Expect that you can take it...after all...look how strong you are with everything else in your life. You overcome, that's what you do...your heart is even more sensitive than your skin...and you love harder than anyone gives you credit for...and when you hurt, you hurt like anyone else. You hurt like everyone else."
Lots of people tell me how strong I am. I just think of it as getting on with life. Going through physically painful times. Enduring the stares and comments because of my appearance. I just get on with it. If let these things stop me, I'd probably be bored at home, receiving welfare payments, watching re-runs of Oprah and wishing I had a life. And so for this great life I have, being strong is the only choice I have.

I don't see my 'strength' until people remind me of it, and sometimes say they admire me for it. And in recent times, I believe my strength is a reason I can take on a lot emotionally. It may well be a reason I gave so much of myself to help someone else. He once told me that the he loves me for how strong I am. And this strength is the reason I am hurting so much, and also an assumption that I am going to be ok.

Todd from Toddocracy wrote a moving blog post about strength and disability last week, too. It resonated with me, and was the inspiration for this particular post. I want to share it with you. Thanks for letting me re-publish it, Todd.

"People often confuse strength and perseverance. Especially when it comes to disability. Apparently people see me as ‘strong’ because I put up with my disability and attempt to build life beyond its restrictions. This requires neither of the above two qualities. I am not strong because I attempt to live an adequate (yet ultimately unfulfilling) life. Nor is it perseverance, because that implies I must have a degree of honourable character in order to look past my own flaws. And I cannot.

Give me anything in the world and if I had the opportunity I would flee from my current circumstances. The fact that I have not implies nothing, except that I have neither the means nor the opportunity to do so. I never will.

So in this context, what constitutes strength?

  1. Is it making the ‘best of’ a miserable situation and finding the little things to make a happy life?
  2. Is it forming the unrealistic expectation and hoping circumstances change?
  3. Is it trying to find a way out hoping that a ‘better situation’ can be found?
Trying to find the answer to the first question could constitute strength, but the other two do not. Sure, achieving the small things in life and being proud of the most minuscule achievements can have a positive short term effect. But when the core problem remains this placebo is short lived. In my case it will never, ever change no matter how many small moments there are.

This also takes away the last two questions: there won’t be any changes and better circumstances will not be found. So all that is left is to remain stoic.

This is the reason why I am highly opinionated. When I am required to sit down and cop my misfortune on the chin for every minute, of every hour, of every day, I refuse to do so in any other aspect of my life.

Perhaps that is what strength means?"

11 September 2011

September 11, 10 years on

i awoke to the television
churning out images of
the world in damage control.

the sky was raining planes, and

the monsters had shown their faces:
their boots of evil
trampling upon eternity’s certainty.

and from the dust and rubble,

paper was the only escapee-
forever haunted by ten thousand screams
etched upon its fibres.

this doesn’t happen-

not in the world that I know.
this is reality T.V at its most real.

I wrote this poem just after September 11 2001. I was 19 when the planes hit the Twin Towers and the Pentagon. I was in hospital when it happened. I remember feeling better that morning, telling the nurse that I was wanting to watch music videos on tv. She said that she doesn't think anything will be on tv as a plane hit the World Trade Centre in New York. I couldn't quite fathom the impact, I didn't know anything about the World Trade Centre's size. So I turned on the tv. And was floored by the enormity of it all. I watched tv all day for the rest of my hospital stay. 

I think the thing that changed for me most since September 11 2001, aside from the west vs east portrayed as good vs evil, is the way the media covers news events. I wasn't used to 24 hour news coverage, and even such instant news coverage, in Australia - not since Lady Diana's death in 2007. It became grief porn. And the media continues to thrive on grief porn. Images of people injured, crying, dead.

I was thinking about the way the media's coverage of September 11 and subsequent large scale tragedies, and wondering the impact on the families of the victims - seeing the images of these tragedies constantly replayed. It must be so difficult. 
Where were you when you found out about September 11?

07 September 2011

All of it could have been avoided.

I had to ensure that my woe is me post wasn't front and centre for a week. I didn't want visitors - or god forbid - people who know me - to think I am always sad. Because I am not. But I think emotions can falter, and hell, my strength is part of what got me into this mess.

So I've been looking for meaning in everything. Star signs. Calendars. The awful thoughts when I am alone. I feel like songs were just written about me. Or by me in another life.

There's the obvious and current Gotye which sort of applies:
"But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing"
And then there's this gem, the track after the obvious. Gotye's Eyes Wide Open.

The chorus makes me think about what I've done. Knowing the outcome and danger of the situation and doing it anyway. And I think of the well intentioned advice received, and how I was headstrong. I never convinced myself I was fearless. I was shit scared of the reality. Gotye sums it up well: "And the saddest thing is all of it could have been avoided."

I walked the plank with my eyes wide open.

"So this is the end of the story
Everything we had, everything we did
Is buried in dust
And this dust is all that's left of us
And only a few ever worried

While the signs were clear
They had no idea
You just get used to living in fear
Or give up
When you can't even picture your future

We walk the plank with our eyes wide open

We walk the plank with our eyes wide open we
(walk the plank with our eyes wide open we)
Yeah we walk the plank with our eyes wide open we
(walk the plank with our eyes wide open we)

Some people offered up answers
We made out like we heard
They were only words
They didn't add up
To a change in the way we were living
And the saddest thing
Is all of it could have been avoided

But it was like to stop consuming's to stop being human
And why'd I make a change if you won't?
We're all in the same boat
Staying afloat for the moment

We walk the plank with our eyes wide open
(walk the plank with our eyes wide open we)
And we walk the plank with our eyes wide open we
(walk the plank with our eyes wide open we)

With our eyes wide open we
We walk the plank, we walk the plank

So that is the end of the story"

I'll be ok soon. And probably less cryptic too.

02 September 2011

The second fall. The second break

“I am famous for my generosity
They say I am the kindest
But it is easier to
Give than receive love”
~ Darkness, Darren Hayes

“You've moved on
I still feel exactly the same...
I shouldn't be holding on
But I'm still holding on for you”
~ The Lover After Me, Savage Garden

I wrote most of this on Tuesday. I still feel the same. Maybe worse. I wish I didn't feel so much. I wish I didn't love so much. So much sadness. So many tears. Violent crying. I don't do things to receive return gestures. I wish nothing but happiness. But I wish I could make him happy. I am so angry at myself. And then I go get all fucking Tumblr/Darren Hayes lyric, and realise I might be feeling just like every other emo teen half my age. I am never more dramatic than when my heart is in pain. I have been drinking on an empty stomach. Blogging under the influence.
I knew I shouldn't fall again. I told myself I wouldn't. I told my friends. Unconvincing. Even though my love had changed, I still fell. Hard. Like the first time. And I kept thinking, what's the future, what's in it for me? Everything and nothing. I knew the outcome.
And yet I couldn't help it. I loved the ideal created by our words. I love this new him. The distance created an immense closeness. There's a danger in distance. We know each other in the form of pixels and data transfer and 3G. Flesh and touch and expression was fleeting. It was all an ideal. I can't make someone love me.
There should have been a sign and roadblocks. Slow down. Danger. Heartbreak ahead.
There probably was. But I didn't see. I was too worried if he was ok. Rather than worrying if  I was ok. And I'm not. Not ok. I hate being so invested in this.
And when my heart broke the second time, a blow by far gentler words than the first time, I wondered why this pain felt worse.
Today I burnt my hand. It was a steam and hot food burn. I had to go to hospital - the second time today.
I cried so much. My hand hurt from the burn and my heart hurt from the break. Sometimes one pain cancels out the other. Not today.
I haven't lost much in the scheme of things. But I've lost the routine. The hope. The permission to love him. And being needed. The loss I feared so much.
I've never fallen for someone twice before, until now. I don't want to again. I am scared to give so much of myself to someone else. What hurts more: getting your heart broken, or still loving someone, even though you know they don't want you anymore?


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