I went to my shrink and told her there was a hole inside of me.
Prescribe something, anything. I'm not happy feeling this way.
It's like someone plunged their hand deep inside, took something, and left.

“May you never experience loss again,”
She said to me.
I love it when someone tells me that.
Loss is such a heart-wrenching experience.
romantic relationships, marriage

Why is it a big deal if you call me one day and find my mobile switched off?
Where’s the problem in that?
Are people not allowed to turn off their phones?
You should’ve just let it go.
You shouldn't have made a big deal out of it.

I woke up this morning feeling like… yes, shit!
I stood in front of my mirror and refused to accept the reflection it gave me.
Yes, I am indeed talking about another heartbreak.
The sleepless nights, puffy eyes, and every single boring detail.
And you have to sit right there,
And watch me talk about it,
Because no one else would!

“Why can’t I go tell him: I love you and I want to marry you?”
“Have you lost your mind? How could you do something like that?”

I wasn’t prepared for that.
You were my first love,
My first dream.
For the first time ever,
I became a slave to my emotions.

After a certain age,
A girl no longer has the freedom to choose a suitable person to marry.

When I’m alone, pondering my rejection of this rotten, patriarchal world, I wonder if my opinions truly are extreme.
I mean, so what if my uncle divorced his wife five times?
And what's wrong with my other uncle being married to three women at the same time?
And why is it a big deal that my aunt was once beaten up with a pair of flip flops for refusing to make a cup of tea for her
husband, who was lazing in front of the TV watching a football match while she was busy scrubbing the bathroom floor?

But I realised that he’d been lying to me.
He embarasses me in front of people and makes fun of my work and my opinions.
And if love is not there, then there is no reason for us to stay together.
But I realised that there are so many people who don’t see that as a valid enough reason.

“The best thing about you is your tan,” he’d always tell me.
“What tan?” I’d laugh, “I am as dark as chocolate.”
“And I’m crazy about chocolate” he’d respond adoringly.