Emotional slavery

It has always been like this and it will always be like this. Men just want me to fulfill some kind of fetish or fantasy. I’m a challenge, a trophy to them. Once won, it’s done. Nothing left but to polish and admire from time to time.

I am not worth any trouble. I am not worth any effort. I am not worth the time or thought. I am not worth to work or try for after the initial goal is achieved. I am not worth to be loved, that’s why I compensate with over-loving others. So at the end, the general love balance is still evened out somehow. I always put in more of myself because I already know I can’t count on anyone filling in the gaps for me. What I anticipate for others, can’t be done in return, because people would have to care and understand too much, too far out of their comfort zone.

I’m supposed to be satisfied and even impressed by little irregularities that might flatter me. I may not receive grand gestures or even just consistencies, and I may not ask for or expect them. I may not express any disappointment, or criticism on how unfair and unbalanced the reality of my relationship is. I should count myself lucky, as difficult to love as I am, that people put up with me as it is. I feel as though I buy people’s love and affection, care and understanding, time and attention, paying with everything I am and have… getting just less than the bare minimum in return. Emotional slavery.



I’m missing parts of my life that I haven’t lost yet, but that slowly disappeared from my daily encounters, seeping silently, dimming to diminishment.
I still to this day don’t understand how or why, the people I felt closest to, came and went by in the fraction of a blinked eye. I don’t hold grudges or resentment, but I do hold questions that will remain forever unanswered. And as I try to let them go, I wonder why it still matters to me while it seemingly never mattered that much to them.

The saddest thing about this is that when I do still talk to these people, it seems they also don’t know why or when or how it went lost. The only difference is that they just moved on without considering the options, without caring to even try. I feel I tried my best and gave my all, considering every possible scenario to be the least judgmental and the most understanding. I feel I valued these people dearly and never wanted for us to stray, not like this.

Why it happened, doesn’t matter anymore. How it happened, does still hurt.
I just still wonder, was it necessary to happen at all? As if growth and evolution can’t happen with people that you love surrounding you. As if I was holding any of these people back.
It hurts me to think that they might have thought of me that way.

I will never know because I will never ask. Partially, because I’m afraid of the answers, partially because I know they don’t have the answers.

Maybe I should just ask, I already lost them either way, what more do I have to lose now? But maybe the definitive aspect of receiving answers, is the closure I try to avoid, because I hope not all is lost just yet.

A Letter to Purpose.

Hello Purpose, remember me ?

I first met you over a dozen years ago, an insignificant while before my childhood froze into wintertime. As that ice sculpture still remains, other seasons thoroughly overwhelmed and interrogated the rest of my belongings. In reflection to what I may have lost or gained during the lengthy depths of travels through these times and spaces, I could find no reason to resist a recollection, specificly of our distinct familiarity within the wide spectrum of all supposed acknowledgments.

I have no pretense to claim in presuming that you might be inclined with this same sensation, but I feel strongly dysphoric about the unforseen and somewhat reluctantly imposed seperation that fell upon our amity so unfortunately. Who is to blame, perhaps, if blame is entitled to posture in this particular affair, I will not be the one to judge.

Because our acquaintance was of fairly short duration, and therefore qualifying merely as vague and faintly unconscious, it received never a chance to be or become more deeply intensified. This to my most sincere regretfulness, as our former interactions held so much promise within their potentials. In spite of this endurance of unawareness on both ends, I know there is still a mutual understanding of how it used to be and possible a slightly more sufficient and respectful comprehension of how it could be, to begin with.

These apparant visions I gave focus on sharing with you, for us to plausibly reunite in any of the nearest by of futures, in absence of any sense of expectant coercion, are faithfully substantiated and hopefully witnessed within the care of this letter.

Hereby, I salute you, hence seeking eagerly forward to, if residing in good fortunes, an equally heartfelt response.

Forever Faithful & Patiently Awaiting,
a previous possessor of Purpose.


Time for a fresh start
A new view
Roads less hard
To follow or pursue
You can travel a milion miles
Only to find nothing more
Than what has been here all the while
Just waiting in front of your door

Sometimes the little things we see every day
And don’t notice as special or outstanding
Are the things that can take our breath away
Even beyond our wildest wishes and understanding

Train me, tame me, tie me down
Teach me to love and cherish
Without a fear or frown
I don’t care to drown
Cause I’ve been to the bottom
And swam back to the top again
So I’m ready to become
Someone who dares and can