Perhaps this loneliness is an embodiment of something bigger than just my objectification of unavailable partners that dictated the nature of my “romantic” relationships with them all these years. 

Perhaps the allure for such partners is because of that deeply unresolved wound incurred by an early incident of childhood rejection. 

Perhaps this rejection arose from the feeling of being a burdened afterthought by caregivers because they were ignorant of their own unhealed pains. 

Perhaps that lack of nurture led me to feel rejected and betrayed by childhood friends with whom I posed some kind of threat because of my overall design. 

Perhaps my soul’s design is meant to dwell in this loneliness because I am supposed to embrace it once and for all, injest it like the hardest pill to swallow in the flighty hopes that I can finally give more of a fuck to myself than I did for others for way too fucking long.

Perhaps giving so much of myself has blessed me with so many obstacles that gave my head a nauseous spin, never-ending states of discomfort and unyielding knots that perpetuate up and down my spine stopping at intricate points in my body, leaving behind a tickle or an itch you can never satisfy no matter how far you reach for it or how hard you scratch. Then the frantic breathing stops and the rush of thoughts commence its thundering pursuit of my sanity; bellowing steam and confetti and it all gets rather mad up in here.

Perhaps I am mad enough now to greet my loneliness and give it a name, a shape, a button-down shirt, a dress with animal prints, or a fidget spinner, to finally comprehend in this sweet sweet mind of mine that I can feel loneliness fearlessly, gracefully. 

Perhaps as I become unapologetically lonely I can, without any fucks given, end ruminating over loops of feel good fallacies as I unravel more and more of the world’s ugliness as well as my own.

Perhaps that is just how its meant to be and honestly I can give fuck all to what anybody thinks about what I got to say at this point.


Perhaps surrender to my loneliness is a better shield,  a solitary kind of romance where I can be lonely with myself and somehow in the muck of it all, we (me, myself and I) will find a different kind of light that can brighten up the way so that this loneliness can finally just become aloneness.

Perhaps that will feel better. 


my secret friends

Swallowing your crushed lips
Swaying with the neon behind my lashes
There descending through your narrow tips
Veins dilate filling with crimson crashes 

Scratching a love that bit like ticks
You inject me with wonderful and terrible things
Intoxicated tongue,
Licking sour treats & sweet tricks
Your fingers tapped powdered nothings

I sank & drowned in your fire
Inhaling a rolling foggy desire
You blew me to float across your milky way
But in a bubble instead you drained me
Then I withdrew from your fix everyday
To watch no more of our tragedy 

I exhaled this down with grinding smiles
Closing this tin box of secret friends
Now dim the flickering lights of your bedroom eyes
As plastic splits our lines to new amends

a Love letter

Dearest Nora,

I was stingy with you because I did not know any better and I have only recently started to learn how to love you so get ready to receive because I’m about to tell you now how much I love you and why I love you in no particular order but to finally put some order and rest in your heart and mind.

So, I love you.

I love your perseverance through adverse and challenging times especially when they have been many and regular.
I love your fierce loyalty towards certain family members and friends, only the ones that listened with love and patience and stood beside you.
I love your wild imagination and attention to details that most people miss.
I love your capacity to forgive yet the assertiveness to not forget.
I love that you when you stumble, which you often do, you do it with grace.
I love your offbeat humor accompanied by hearty laughs and eyes that show it.
I love your kaleidoscope of interests in and out of life and how you bite your lips when you reverse engineer existence in fleeting thoughts.
I love your unwavering interest in the darkest and brightest corners of the psyche with faith in the unseen.
I love how you stand up for yourself unapologetically, you grasp your uniqueness and you are not ashamed to voice it.
I love how you appreciate beauty in the ancient and the aged by time.
I love your humility and adaptability.
I love your honesty and your determination to always uphold the truth no matter how much it stings.
I love how you embrace sensuality felt through the palms of your hands and your fingertips.
I love how you can love intimately and passionately with such devotion and you understand what it means to give your body, heart and soul to someone yet maintaining respectful boundaries remembering that you have always been whole.
I love that you are aware of the lucky ones who are open enough to receive even an ounce of your kindness and compassion and those lucky ones are not many and you are ok with that too. You are also uniquely connected to your dreams and the rhythm of the universe inside your body and outside of it. Not many are even aware of that sort of potential. You are special. You have always been special.

There is a collection of wonderful things about you to love, that I can love, and that many others can love; family, friends, lovers, partners, children, animals.

You deserve to be loved as sincerely and genuinely as you love.

There is no one I would be rather in this life time other than you.

All the light,

an apology letter

Dearest little Nora,

This is a letter of apology. Another one long overdue. This is your 39year old and a half self. It was a difficult journey to arrive to where I am. Daunting and exhausting. I may have arrived relatively “safely” but the bruises and scars remain and it is ok. I carry them with respect and honor.

I have not forgotten your original pain. In fact, it was your pain that you carried from such a young age that led me, slowly but surely, to this transition point in the cycle of our current life. That very same pain grew into confusion, misguidance and rebellious voicelessness that I have ignored for decades. I knew it was there but I got distracted and experienced the harsher side of life. The kind of ugly that life spewed at an unapologetically sensitive women like myself and that sent me to many rock bottoms along the way. I knew you were different, a wild day dreamer, intermittently energetic, moody as fuck, curious and stranger than most. And because of that, and for the biggest portion of our lives, family suppressed you, friends suppressed you, partners suppressed you, life suppressed you, and worst of all…I suppressed you. Not anymore.

As we both now know, time is a cruel teacher; calculating and patient. Time was not particularly on our side by makings things fast and forgetful instead we lingered and endured and felt every sting through every cell of our being time and time again until by some cosmic mercy it finally granted us the tick of a gentler hand and perhaps now we appreciate time a little and no longer resent it and no longer allow that very same pain to fester.

And time finally stood still in that instant when I saw you completely, I heard you and I stood up for you and held you gently in my heart and mind where you can finally be wild and free and just be you. That instant that is rightfully ours. No longer in anyone’s shadow and instead in your own and unafraid. The embodiment of love and freedom in solitude.

I am sorry it took this long but as they say;

better late than never.

Yours in light,


i am here

I am here. Droopy-eyed. High.

I am here. Muscle aches. Progress.

I am here. Shocked. Delighted. Free.

I am here. Questioning. Answered. Hmm.

I am here. A little Queer. Who cares anymore.

I am here. You won’t bind me. Leave Me Be.

I am here. Busy. Fulfilled. Enjoying the Chaos.

I am here. I am glad you missed my spot.

I am here. I see all. I see all of You.

I am here. Now.

37 and a 1/2

She speaks to herself sometimes, often mumbling. The creatures that live with her answer with curious eyes and hungry mouths. The days and nights roll like liquid slowly streaming down a steep street. She tries to write but the words are not arriving like before. She wonders, wonders at the reason, the purpose, the necessity of this existence. Her existence. This laborious rebirth; blissful, spiritual, quick in its slowness; emptying after a memory refill. She still mutters to herself. She pauses while washing the dishes like time stood in mourning for a moment. The thoughts quieter and the heart ticks away its beats. She thinks of the lust that entered her and she yearns. Yearns to settle for the unsettled.

Fireworks. Sparkles exploding in the sky, glittering, shining, casting light on the darkness for mere seconds. Fading, imploding, like an orgasm that should have lasted longer. The sounds popping, crackling, bouncing off the cold red walls of this ancient ascending earth. If her hand could be held, would that make a difference? If her lips were kissed, would she have felt complete? Her hands buried in her pockets from the sharp winds, some parts of her body ache in pain and others ache in pleasure. Would it really have made a difference? Her body held tight? Will she be aware at all? 

She might. 

a cosmic demand

On the historical full moon of Friday July 27, 2018, I performed for the first time a full moon ritual. It is a ritual where intentions are set in earnest to release destructive behavioural patterns, old conditioned thoughts, emotional stagnation and damaging personal attributes that no longer serve me in hopes for self-forgiveness, self-healing and self-development.

It is a simple ritual of writing down statements of release on a paper and then burning it up into ashes to symbolically rise with a cleansed calm mind, purged negative emotions and a newly created space in the heart. I sincerely had no idea what to expect literally and figuratively and I have reached that point in my life where the faith in discovering my true self and a higher power has only began to manifest.

I had researched that anything could happen during this process. The paper could take time or less time to burn, depending on the chemistry between fire and paper. I was prepared that it might take several attempts to see it burn through. As I put the paper alight, flames engulfed it so ferociously I had to lean back. It looked like swaying mountains of red dancing right in front of me. After a few seconds, the burning slowed down, ashes began to spread and to my amusement the paper had began to recede into a single word like an underwater volcano that erupted and its lava was forming an island in backwards. This island of a paper stopped receding exactly at the word “confront” from the noun that I wrote “confrontation”.

I cracked a smile and my throat choked part from surprise and part from what felt like an immaculate awareness from this cosmic demand. The universe, or something out there, cared enough to advice me and maybe elevate me consciously on this stifled planet. It was like a cold slap on the face though. No therapist could have said it louder, no drug could have taken me higher, no failed relationship could have humbled me so into self-realisation.

Of course, like an embarrassed child caught stealing cookies, I began to question confront what? I have just confronted major mind and heart ache, what more can I confront now? Could I not just catch a break and breathe? Not yet.

Then I understood I was not confronting enough, in fact, my confrontations are half-assed and ego-serving. I should not pride in the confrontation of my last long relationship gloating that I got the upper-hand, or confronting various situations with a bad attitude and defensive energy because I feel entitled. It is my self that I must confront.

Having said that, on the same day, Mercury began its retrograde in Leo. Leo represents courage. It’s crystal clear now that my message from the universe is to also find courage. The courage to confront fairly, forgive, be compassionate and ultimately let go.

will you?

will you…
enter into my world softly and ignite a curious flame?

will you…
trace the cracks on my shell and fill them with shimmering gold?

will you…
play with the child, reassure the teen and elevate the woman?

will you…
breathe in me your fire, quiet my winds and still my waters?

will you…
listen to my silence, read my tears and write gentle caresses on my skin?

will you…
offer your body freely, share your mind boldly and fuse your soul wholly?

will you…
flow with me, glow with me, grow with me?

will you…
swim against the current with me?

will you?

No. I didn’t think so.


A revival of sorts. A reemergence of emotions, thoughts, perceptions, dreams & nightmares. A grand opening of the soul. A display of inner wonders. Beginning with, of course, a rant of repressed emotional histories.

I am not a mind for you to cloud. I am not eyes for you to shield. I am not ears for you to deafen. I am not a mouth to spit your words. I am not a throat for your halo to choke. I am not breasts for your misery to nurse. I am not emotions for you to sicken. I am not legs to tread your path. I am not a body for your release. I am not a soul for you to posses. I am not a heart for you to break.

I am. I am. I am. I am nothing. I am everything. I am mine.



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