These long distance phone calls, instead of the comfort and reprieve that they’re supposed to be, are becoming so emotionally exhaustive and aggravating. We just hung up and what’s left from the tele-conversation is an all too familiar feeling that I’ve gathered and cornered into a tiny recess of my heart. But tonight it swelled and expanded, and each time it gets that little bit more dominating, and that much bitter.

While gasping for the correct words to spin a tale of sorrow, I found some old drafts from many months back that already did a very good job. Reading them through, it felt like I could just stitch these unfinished proses all up together and there! – the perfect antithesis to all the highly embarrassing nudges of wedded bliss. It’s a very abrasive kind of hurt to know that under the sheen of compatibility, there is a layer of grime laced with jealously, disappointment and neglect. Perhaps it’s time to air the dirty laundry out in the sun.

……
In all honesty, I just want to be sedated from this well of expectations and pipe dreams that will never be fulfilled. It’s becoming so hard to find myself one step ahead of reality – dreaming, hoping, wishing. For what? Does it really matter in the larger scheme of things that are yet to come?

……
He is a good man with a robotic heart, whose sensitivity and emotional nerves are replaced by a circuit of copper wires that can remain stoicly unaffected by any emotive outbursts from a real, pumping heart. He is never apologetic, never flinching; and all I can say is, can I please have my heart back.

……
When I step away from the grown-up that I have to be, all I am is just a hopeless (and hapless) romantic who needs her fairy sprinkles served on perfect toast at exactly the right time of hunger. And I need you to know that I also like some butter with it.