.Confession.

Dear Universe,

There are aspects of myself that I don't recognise these days. I am trying to be honest but this is making me softer somehow. There have been walls in place for so long that I just assumed it was because I built them to last. It seems that they were not diamond-hard or skyscraper-tall after all. It's like realising that your walls are nothing but flimsy curtains you never thought to part. When I make coffee in the morning, I boil too much water. When I meet guys I don't think of them as conquests or burdens anymore. When night floats down on me, there is too much space in my bed so I sleep bang smack in the middle of it.
I don't like this side of me.
I don't like how easy it is to be disappointed; when you uncross your arms and uncurl your fists, and still having nothing in the palm of your hand.
I don't like how suddenly I don't know how to play the game, when I used to get royalties for writing the rules.
I don't like feeling desperate just because I exhibited an iota of interest.
I don't like feeling like the average girl, waiting for some guy to get in touch.
That's not me.

Tomorrow I'm going to put on my super-cool warrior mask again. I shall play the role of the independent woman fiercely. I shall sneer at couples and pretend to throw up when someone mentions relationships. Universe, I shall mock love. It seems that this is when you like to send it my way. I never cared for love and yet there was always someone there to love me. This summer I vowed to cease my iciness when dealing with men. Fat lot of good it did me.

Tomorrow I will be unattainable again (this will make men want to attain me of course) but I thought you might like to know that I confessed to (perhaps, maybe) being open to love. Even if it was just for a little while.

I have an inkling that I'm going to get a visit from Irony soon. If that's the case, can it be at some point next week? I need some time to readjust to my old skin. Plus, I think I'm going away this weekend...which is probably why you'll do it exactly then. Shit, you don't need to think of ways to fuck me over; I do it for you.

As ever, yours faithfully,
Alexia

.Smoky November Nights.

Dear Universe,

It is almost one in the morning and I should be asleep; story of my life.

So, August is long gone, and most of November too. You know this already, being the universe and all, but I'm well. I have my good days, my bad days, my in-between days, but all in all, I would have to admit that I am pretty content. Life is busy. I'm always broke and I've been acting like a ho, but it's all good in the 'hood as I would say if I were a product of my generation.

Having been infatuated with the freedom of youth since I turned 18, it seems strange to me to harbour sudden desires to grow up. No, I don't mean that I want to be mature and have little Lexi-spawn. Rather, I want to be a grown-up so that I can dress the way I want without being called a geriatric. Is it so wrong to want a life where I can wear cocktail dresses as casually as all-stars?!

Perhaps I should think about developing the whole 'maturity' thing a tad more.

I told The Ex to fuck off on Friday Unfortunately, I didn't say it like that. Still, message received and, the two times I ran into him (yeah, sure, NOW I run into him), he ignored me. Awesome. Still, do I care? Let's say no. Sure, I'll probably always be a bit crazy when it comes to him, blah blah, blah, but, for now, crisis averted, heart in tact. Besides, what served as my distraction to The Ex may be becoming the focus. So Universe, do you think I have the balls to like someone and let them like me back? Let's find out!

PS: May change this to a poetry blog. It's the only thing I write regularly.