Perpetual Loop

I feel your gaze upon me no matter where I am and what I am going. It is as if my body senses when you get close, making my gaze leave the floor and connect with your eyes. Time slows as my sight travels from your feet, legs, and quickly up to your face just as my mind quickly recognizes who it is I am looking at.

The muscles in my face tense up, stuck in a half-surprised, half-dejected, and half-smiling pose. I wonder what you think of me when you look at me. I have the same look every single time, unable to control my body, forever frozen in a perpetual look of disinterestedness. I may look disinterested as a defence mechanism, but it isn’t so. It is quite the opposite and I wish we got more than just a sharing of looks, which leaves me more confused.

I saw a flicker in your eyes today as we locked eyes, my face still retaining its happy and amused countenance from my on-going conversation with a friend. Time slowed agonizingly as I was calculating what to do, but I simply broke our contact, looking back at my friend, trying to continue the conversation as though nothing happened, too scared to show you how I truly felt, worried that my face gave away what was going on inside.

Every time I cut our eye contact in the same dejected manner, I curse myself for never being able to brake this horrible cycle of supposed disinterestedness.

When will I be able to change my horrible habits? Never? Hopefully not…



He has these moments of tenderness that catch me off guard–so different than his usual loud and  arrogant self.

The polarity between the two is astonishing.

These moments add to his complexity, a side of him that likes to slip out every now and then.  Continue reading “Tenderness”

Subway Station

People stand in disarray in front of the thick yellow line running across the subway floor.

Some stand close to it, waiting patiently or impatiently for the next train to come while some prefer to stand against the wall a couple feet away from the tracks, either because they feel more secure there or just out of habit, just like those who stand close to the line.

Those who stand behind the yellow line, mostly the experienced commuters who take the metro every single day know exactly where the doors will be, even when there are no stickers on the floor indicating their location.

Despite the types of people creating this dishevelled setting, when one looks closer they can see an array of things.

There is a couple a few meters down indulged in their own romantic bubble unaware of those around them, completely immersed into themselves–kissing, laughing, embracing.  Continue reading “Subway Station”


I wanted to make a separate post to apologize for my inactivity for past couple months. 

I didn’t plan on taking a hiatus, but during the summer, I experienced a lack of inspiration to write and when the fall semester started I was really busy with my new job at one of the school newspapers. 

I am trying, slowly but surely, to get back into the rhythm of posting more frequently. 


My mind is easily controlled by external sources.

Perhaps this is why I often find myself alone, in seclusion, away from people.

When each school session is done, I am left to myself, no longer forced to be surrounded and interacting with people.

During these times, I am most often at home, keeping to myself, and doing things that only require one person—reading books and watching tv shows.

When school comes back into session, I am once again immersed into people and crowds. I am suddenly more hypersensitive, paying attention to everything around me—mostly the people.

The presence, closeness, and number of people cause my heart rate to increase, bringing forth nervousness and sweating.

I see people I haven’t seen for a couple weeks or months, and my mind, in their absence, starts thinking of them, trying to overanalyze and understand them and their actions.

My mind and body swifts back into a rhythm that had become foreign to me. How easily the body reverts back to its previous state.

All I crave is the state of mind of off-session times, where my mind and body is to myself and doesn’t have external stimuli affecting it.

No Difference

I have always been a sensitive person. 

I thought I hid it well from myself and others, but I often come to realize how my tough girl persona is just a defence mechanism. 

I stopped caring what strangers thought a while ago, but I cannot shake off my sensitivity in regards to what my friends and family think of me.

I am at this dual road, where I don’t care and care at the same time. Maybe the truth is that I tell myself  I don’t care, but deep down I do. No matter how much I laugh about it, somewhere deep down it hurts. 

After spending my whole life trying to please people, to an extent without losing my morals, I thought I was done being criticized by those close to me. I didn’t really care, nor do I now, about what strangers and those who aren’t close to me think, but I have trouble not caring about the opinions of those close to me. 

I didn’t realize how much of a problem it was until I decided to go vegan. I cut out meat and diary from my diet completely, except for eggs and fish. So, I am not fully vegan, but my diet is 95% vegan. 

If I get so much criticism for not being fully vegan, imagine when I do. 

I got critized by some who are close to me. At first, I laughed it off, but when the criticism became repetitive and came up in almost every meet up, it became annoying and hurtful.

Once you go astray from mainstream societal values and norms, you are deemed weird, a party pooper, a difficult person and someone not fun to be around. 

I was suddenly this weird and incomprehensible person. It was like: “where is the fun you, the old you”. 

I am me. I am fun. I just don’t fit into the mild you want me too.

I was criticized for not drinking alcohol. I was criticized for not liking clubbing and partying. I was criticized for not being much of a coffee drinker. 

I didn’t mind those criticism, not as much as I do now. And I still am criticized for the above things. 

It did bother me, but now it’s just a whole pile of things that I am criticized for and I have reached my limit.

I am hurt, but what is at the top of the list of my feelings is annoyance. 

I am annoyed and angry.

Society is filled with hypocrites. 

It is fine when the person who is criticizing does something out of the mainstream because it is them and they love themselves and they are selfish. They want people to be considerate when it comes to themselves, but cannot return the favor.  You would think they would understand others who are different, but it isn’t always the case.

No matter what you do in life, you will be criticized. I know that, but I can’t help but feel hurt by the criticism of those close to me.

It even annoys me that I am so sensitive. I am annoyed because I am annoyed and hurt by peoples’ opinions about me.  

I am tired. 

I need a nap. 


Everytime I think I have my life figured out, my plans and ideas come crashing down. 

My brain can’t help but think of all the worst case scenarios and all the what ifs. My heart starts beating fast and I get nervous and irritable. 

Our society promotes selfishness, to follow our hearts and dreams, to do what we want instead of being forced to do something. 

Unfortunately, what comes with this freedom of choice is lack of oppportunity with the less popular careers. 

The thought of not being able to find a job in the near future causes my brain to think of all the things that can go wrong, bringing my anxiety attacks back. 

The lack of control is the root of all my anxiety attacks as well as the inevitability of life and being all alone without any support or help. 

They said “do what you want,” but what they should have said is “do what is in demand.”

Maybe it is my lack of confidence in my skills that brings this increased pessimistic view of the world, but there is truth behind my thoughts. 

There is only freedom of choice for the talented and the lucky. 

Maybe persistence and hard work can get you a job in your career. I don’t know since I haven’t graduated. 

The unknown state of my future causes my brain to spiral into insanity. 

Sweet Memories

I recalled my childhood memories of horseback riding. 

I remember the Sunday car rides with my mom to the riding school. I remember the refreshing wind blowing through my face as we drove. 

Every Sunday was filled with excitement. I couldn’t wait to get on a horse. 

Everything disappeared once I got on a horse. It was only enjoyment. 

A quiet, shy and introverted kid morphed into a focused, determined, brave and excited one. 

Not that I wasn’t any of those things, but horseback riding was the only sport I could do without feeling drained and weighed down by social anxiety. 

Of course the classes were group based, but when I was with horses, all my introverted qualities disappeared. 

I suddenly didn’t care about what others thought. All I saw was the horses around me and the horse in front of me. 

I always had a smile on my face.  

I remember my mom opening the trunk of our old volvo, bringing down the back seats and sitting there after my lessons, enjoying some well deserved food and beverage. 

I only have good memories of my childhood times of horseback riding and I miss it terribly. 

Having to stop riding was very difficult and to this day I want to go back. 

Where are the carefree times of childhood? I want to relive my childhood, to relish the beautiful times of innocence and no responsibilities. 


I wasn’t embarrassed because I confessed my feelings to you. It wasn’t because I got rejected by you. 

I was embarrassed because you betrayed our friendship. 

I learned the hard way how immature you were. I was very naive at that time and I didn’t think you would have been as immature as the rest of the boys in our school. 

Remembering this confession from 5-6 years ago still stings a bit. 

I remember the look on your face when you approached me, all smug and cocky. I remember how I made a stupid, embarrassing face denying everything that happened. I pushed you away – out of my life and out of my heart. 

The latter was a failure. 

For the next year, I was teased for having feelings for you and I was in so much pain from both your betrayal of our friendship and your rejection of my feelings. 

I remember the looks and hushed whispers as the whole school gathered in the gymnasium. I wanted to run away for the first time in my life.

I was a laughing stock of the school and most importantly I was just as much as of a joke to you as I was to everyone else. 

You even had the right to ask me, both directly and behind my back to my friends as why I was acting so weird, why I didn’t talk to you anymore and how it was always awkward when we did. 

How self-centred could you be to not realize the reasons?

You broke my heart into a million pieces and it took me a year to get over the whole ordeal. 

It wasn’t so much because you didn’t return my feelings – I wasn’t that petty and childish – it was more the betrayal and the immaturity of your actions. 


I always wondered how long you showed interest in me. 

Was I imagining it? Was it all in my head or were my instincts right?

 Even though I was only a young girl then, I knew there was something between us, an invisible line, a tension. 

You never acted upon it because I was very young, and only a prepubescent girl. 

Each time I saw you, I was a couple years older and the feeling didn’t change. 

You went through girlfriends, but yet the feeling between us was still there. 

As I reached mid-teens, you showed more inclination and initiated more direct acts. 

I remember when you called out to me after you had seen me in the shopping centre with my friends. 

I remember it so vividly. I can feel my cheeks turning rosy just recalling it. 

I remember how time froze when I heard my name, turning around and laying my eyes upon you.

I remember the tension and the awkwardness when you hugged me. 

I remember my cheeks turning bright red – or it felt that way because my face felt like it was on fire.  

We were both with our friends, but you took the initiative to separate yourself from them, calling me out from mine. 

In those moments, no one else existed. The noise and the chatter in the mall disappeared. I couldn’t hear anything besides my rapid heart beating against my rib cage, rushing too much blood to my cheeks. 

I saw only you. It was the same for you too. You had eyes only for me. My eyes were locked onto yours, studying every body movement. 

Even though we awkwardly exchange some short words, the whole interaction lasting about a minute, but it felt like an hour. 

As soon as the moment was over, the noise and the people in our surroundings rushed back to me, bringing my senses back to life. 

It felt overwhelming. My senses were so focused on you that when the moment was over, it hit me all at once, feeling embarrassed that our seemingly private moment was broadcasted to those around us. 

Your actions till this day confuse me. 

I met you once again, as an adult, and your eyes still found mine. 

I felt the same tension. I saw in your eyes this urge, this instinct to be with me, to interact with me. 

I haven’t seen you since and nothing has happened. It is still the same – tension, but no change. 

Maybe each time we meet, the circumstances or timing isn’t right. 

I see you with other girls and I can’t help but feel a little hurt – not jealous, but confused and disappointed. 

What was I to you? Nothing? It sure seems like it.