to the one who broke my heart | honest letters #1

A friend of mine is posting a series of twenty-two honest letters to people in his life. I find the idea extremely brave, honestly, and I also really need to say what I need to say to some people, regardless of whether they can appreciate it or not. So. Here are some honest letters. Shall we?

Oh, love.

I remember falling in love with you hard and fast and with every part of myself. You are still the happiest time of my life so far. I remember longing to be with you when you left to get water, and I remember sitting in your lap hoping that I’d always get to see you looking at something from under your eyelashes. I remember the way that you thought your hands were too coarse to be good to hold, and I remember the silly half-mouthed kiss you gave me when I told you that I thought they were lovely. They are lovely.

I know you didn’t break it on purpose. I know. It was more of a civilian casualty: things were flying everywhere and decisions had to be made and the tornado that is my head didn’t help your balance either – and then you dropped it. It broke into three pieces that I broke further. With every drunk text and every “I just miss you” and every textpost and every “Just, call me if you miss me back, okay?” I dropped what was left. I shattered the fragments that you unintentionally left behind, and dissolved the rest of it in alcohol and tears and sweat.

I’ve come a long way from being the living embodiment of Tove Lo’s Stay High. I do miss you, still. I miss singing for you, and arguing about breakfast. You know this.

You know that I love you. You know that I always will.

You know that I have no sense of self preservation, and that if you came back with a piece of the broken heart that I left you with, I’d be on my hands and knees looking for fragments that had been missing for a year or three; that I’d dedicate myself to drawing up equations concerning where I can find exactly what we’d lost; that I’d cut myself down to size, again and again and again.

You know.

I can’t do that, though. I miss you, but differently now. The only science I was good at was our chemistry, and we both know that an attempt at complex mathematics would be better suited to you. You’re not too into maths, though.

I’m sorry about how things turned out. I’m sorry that nothing ended like we hoped; with off white walls and early morning espressos. I miss you indefinitely. I love you. I’m sorry that we’re finished, but we are. I know that now. My drunk heart knows it now. The pages of my journal know it. The Internet knows now, and so do you.

Stay well, and take constant care of yourself.

love and light,
shalom xo

monthly me | september 2016

Hi one and all! It’s been a solid week or two since I even checked up on my WordPress stats, but my lil baby Gertrude (my computer) has all but given up on me completely, so I’m chalking it up to that.

I hope you’ve been well. September is gone, and much like the other months of 2016, it’s happened too fast. With that said, lettuce jump into the salad that was September.

(I just got back from a birthday picnic with some dear friends from high school and some new people and let me just say that everyone is better outside of high school. Seriously.)

from the camera roll

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happenings this month

  • finally. Made. FRIENDS. Took me long enough! I made friends with the most lovely people who greatly appreciate my breakfast making skills. It took me long enough, but at the end of the year is better than not at all – and I’m really glad that it’s them. If any of you are reading this – Ash, Sarah, Andrea, Gabriela, Monray, Jay, Quinn, David, Kgomotso – I’m bringing pancakes when campus opens. Be there.
  • My blog and I were recognised!!!!!!! In real life!!!!! BY TWO DIFFERENT HUMANS!!!! One of them was giving me a wax, which was a bit awkward, but the other was outside a test venue. I was happy.
  • #FeesMustFall2016 is still happening, but the Minister for Higher Education screwed up and said that fees are going up by a maximum of 8% this year and is shucking himself of all responsibility. Protests have been real, and stones have been thrown, but we’ll keep fighting.
  • Dubious skype session with a love of mine who’s in Cape Town. We see you, Ashley and Robbie.
  • We turned three! Yesterday/Today (I made this blog at midnight) was my three year blogging anniversary, and I’m so grateful for the people I’ve “met” and met, and the people who I still am yet to. Thanks for reading and living in my corner of the internet with me.

music on repeat

i’ve told you time and time again
i’m not as think as you drunk i am

we may as well call september “the month of Lana” because i have listened to almost nothing but “Born to Die: The Paradise Edition” for the last 30 days.

i’m just a little person / one person in a sea
of many little people / who are not aware of me

snippets of internal monologue

  • If I take this shot, someone might get shot. Will I get shot? Oh man. I’m taking the shot.
  • This boy who apologised for “leading me on”, does he know that I’d have to be interested for him to lead me on?
  • ULTIMATE GAY. THAT’S WHO ASH IS. ULTIMATE GAY.
  • Lord, if my boobs get any bigger I MAY DIE.
  • Why why WHY couldn’t I at least have been awake when they robbed me?

obsessions

  • Spontaneous breakfast making sessions for my pals
  • Snapchat! I’ve been using it so much.
  • Checking my Lisbon hostel reservation
  • MY PALS IN LONDON I LOVE YOU TASH AND MIRANDA (i’m a mirfanda)

In September I was robbed, drunk, tired, crying, dangerous, and very drained. I’ve started October on the best note, and I don’t know whether or not I’m going back to campus, or whether I’ll be finished with first year in November, or whether or not I’m about to screw myself over. I probably am. But I mean, screwing up is at least a fifth of the fun, right?

love and light,
shalom