.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