I am officially a twenty-something. While most people have their first alcoholic beverage in their teens, I didn’t have one until just three weeks ago at the stroke of midnight on my 21st birthday, and even then I weaned into it with a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. When you tell people that you don’t drink, they often go through a series of reactions that I like to parallel with the 5 stages of grieving...
Okay so it’s been a couple of posts now and I feel like ya’ll are getting a nice idea of who I am, what irks me, yaddayaddayadda. However, I want ya’ll to know me, know me before we take this relationship to the next level. You know that guy who professes his love for you after 1 week and you’re like, hol’ up you haven’t seen me at my worst, you haven’t seen me when I have just woken up with...
By now, I probably come off as someone completely void of experiencing attachment to any living species besides cats and house plants. You probably think I hit the escape button any time a guy tries to get a slice of this fine dime-piece. However, this can’t be further from the truth (okay okay, maybe it’s still a little bit true). But when I get tired of keeping up the whole Miss Emotionally...
I have a borderline catastrophic character flaw. I refuse to believe that a guy likes me unless he is on one knee professing his love for me with a box from Tiffany’s. Now, before you start accusing me of using this post as a way to publicly flaunt the number of boys who have fallen smitten for this dashing diva, I can assure you that’s not the point of my post (at least not...
Every night as I lie awake, I hear the faint melodies of the piano man. His song escapes through the walls, seeps through the vents, crawls its way under my door and cradles me under the covers. I hear his heartbeat in each note. His anguish flows through his veins and pours out through his fingertips with the stroke of each key. Are you lonely too, I wonder as I lie in bed. “Didn’t you hear? He...
everything about
our first kiss
was bittersweet.
your lips tasted of
smooth tobacco
and mine of
sticky mangoes.
what’s there left to say
when my tongue
once dripping with ink
has been wrung dry
and my lips
full and plump
in its past life
now indian burned
and spli n tered
Friends and fiends, I’ve been trying my best to garner enough inspiration for a new non-fiction post, but I haven’t been able to conjure up anything worth sharing. So instead, I’ve decided that I am going to start sprinkling some poetry and fiction pieces into this blog. I find poetry to be the most personal form of writing. Poetry is stripped of disclaimers and hiding spots. It...
Wish I could write more but pharmacy school mode has kicked in. I have 1 or 2 exams every week until the end of the semester! Perhaps I will have time to write something this weekend. But until then, I thought I’d reblog an older post from my other tumblr that never ceases to be relevant. erinkayy: As much as we secretly hope that our ex boyfriends/boytoys will never have the heart to look...
After my seemingly depressing free write, I’ve been getting concerned messages from a few friends who probably now think I am on track to becoming a manic, self-loathing spinster. Sameen*, the boyfriend of one of my top 3 besties read my blog and told my Rx-bestie that my post broke his heart and he didn’t know I had such a lonely soul. His comment, in turn, broke my heart so I just...
I'm a twenty-something who likes learning about people and writing about them.
