I am

This has been going around the web so I might as well give it a go.

I am the woman who is addicted to pain.

I am the woman with an inner reservoir of stored tears, that never seems to dry.

I am the woman who has only 30 people in the world she gives a real damn about.

I am the woman afraid of dreaming, because the dreams she remembers are prophetic.

I am the woman as wary as a cat around strangers but once she knows you will love you like a dog would, trustingly, unreservedly, unabashedly.

I am the woman who drinks at clubs to justify the way she dances – when she would move that way sober. 

I am the woman who writes because she knows it is her calling.

I am the woman who stands longingly at death’s door but knows it will not open for a long while yet.

I am the woman who believes in angels and screams at God.

I am the woman touched with madness, cursed with idealism and blessed with objectivity.

I am the woman who will love you whether you want it or not, and who will flee once you get too close.

I am the woman who forgives but can never forget. 


Going down

It’s weird.

Things are going pretty well.

But all the stuff going on makes me just want to run and hide. The hermit in me is screaming to be let alone.

Yet I know that I need to be in the world, not hiding on the fringes. I have to get out of my own way before I can keep walking.

Makes me think of all the people I know who trip themselves up before they reach the finish line – sometimes it’s bad luck, sometimes it’s just a reluctance to let change happen.

Things are going to change and I’m just going to grit my teeth and deal with it.


I’ve been spending a lot of my weekends in bed. Not sleeping (Wish I were) but reading, surfing and rethinking what I’m doing, where I’m going.

I remember once reading that one of the greatest powers you have is the power to change your mind. There are some convictions I have that will always hold but everything else? I reserve the right to be as flighty as I want to be.

For once, I stayed put at my job instead of putting my foot out the door. But I think by almost leaving, I made a point to myself and to my colleagues. I have the choice to go or stay, and whatever I choose there’s going to be a damn good reason behind it.

I learnt more about myself. I learnt more about what I want from my job, from my work, from myself. This job is important in that it pays my rent and gives me lots of opportunity to practise my writing. Apart from that, everything else I want from my life, I need to make time to do. Outside of work.

So it’s that dreaded P-word: priorities. What I want to do, what I don’t really need to and what I really dream about doing.

Dreams don’t die, unless you let them. And mine, like my ideals, are keeping me up at night.