It kinda ***** to be hispanic.

Because apparently,
my ***** tastes like salsa.

and my calves are not strong as a result of exercise,
it’s because I’m hauling pounds of marijuana across the borders.

and I’m automatically dumb,

you know your people have been brainwashed when even they start to believe that they’re dumb.

that’s what I learned when the Mexican girl next to me in math class leaned over to me and said,

“You’re really smart for one of us.”

if a white woman has my skin color, it’s beautiful.

when my naturally tan skin is pictured, i’m now wearing “too much bronzer.”

I’m a fake.

I “don’t belong in this country.”

Because my ancestors looked up to this country as a place of refuge and stability, but I tend to disagree,

I gotta leave now?

Take a moment and live in my home. Live in my country. Know how my life works.

And then tell me oppression isn’t a thing.

Having stormed the 2015 catwalks, the 1970s trend is now tilting its felt beret towards our make-up bags. Good news for the party season, when a red lip and a metallic wash on the lids are ideal for anyone who struggles beyond the realms of a slick of foundation, bronzer and mascara.

Because while the era's make-up is rich in glamour, colour and confidence, it's also easy to emulate. So channel Jerry Hall and Diana Ross, and let Alex Babsky, UK make-up ambassador for Lancôme, show you how to get the look with a contemporary update.

Take one (above)

"Choose one element of the glam look - a shimmery or emerald eyeshadow, for example - and temper it with a subtle approach to the rest of your make-up. Think a nod to the 1970s, not Studio 54 pastiche," advises Babsky.

Here, he layered powder over cream shadow, in just one colour, "for more oomph" - using Stargazer Eye Dust in 17 (£4) and Anthony Vaccarello for Lancôme Hypnôse Eyeshadow Palette in Green Fever (£38). The strong eyes are balanced by "soft, liquid bronzer fusing into light, illuminating foundation, with a non-clumpy mascara [Lancôme Hypnôse Volume-à-Porter, £22.50] and natural brow".

Glow show

"The basis for all these looks is a perfected, but barely powdered, slightly sheeny skin finish," says Babsky. Look for an illuminating foundation, such as Lancôme Miracle Cushion (£29.50), which Babsky used here, or apply liquid illuminator underneath your foundation; tryLaura Mercier Foundation Primer - Radiance (£29) or Lancôme La Base Pro Hydra Glow (£28.50). "Leaving your skin with a reflective, 'real' finish allows you to incorporate bold make-up accents without it becoming overdone," says Babsky.

Shining Star

The sticky gloss of the 1970s has been superseded by a new generation of high-shine lip lacquers. "They almost roll on for a super-glistening finish. You don't need to blot, and they are a lot more comfortable on the lips," explains Babsky, who here used Lancôme Rouge In Love lipstick in 185N (£22).

Lighten up

"These are all quite 'made up' party looks, with a shine reminiscent of the glossy 1970s, but with a new lightness," says Babsky. Where 1970s make-up textures were often thick and gloopy, the 2015 version is all about taking advantage of today's finer, more languid textures. "A real must is a cream or liquid bronzer to give winter skin a much-needed moisturising glow," he says.

Here, Babsky used Giorgio Armani Maestro Liquid Summer Bronzer(£39.50) with a fine layer of Lancôme Belle de Teint (£35) over the top.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-melbourne

Mikaela Lagdameo-Martinez has forged her way in and around the beauty industry. Starting out as a model at 15, she’s now started working as an entrepreneur and VIP sales manager for Stores Specialists Incorporated, one of the top names when it comes to bringing international beauty brands to our local counters.

With such a background and how she continues to grow her opportunities (she’s now started a scented candle business called Mink), you would think she’d have a million things in her everyday makeup stash, but the reality is quite the contrary. She still keeps it easy with tried and tested products that do their job efficiently. How else would she be able to keep up with all her work on top of being a mother and wife?

On a Thursday morning, Mika was kind enough to squeeze us into her busy schedule to share her favorite makeup and skincare products and how she doesn’t believe in going over-the-top when it comes to beauty.

Describe your approach to beauty

I’ve always been drawn to effortlessness. For me, beauty is in simplicity and comes in the most natural form.

What’s the best beauty advice you’ve ever received from your mother?

Always put lotion on! Ever since I was a kid, I knew that after every bath came lotion application. I was never allowed to get dressed without [applying lotion first.] I can say I was officially brainwashed until this day!

If you had to prioritize skincare or makeup, which would it be?

Skincare, definitely. When you take good care of your skin, makeup is secondary. Plus, I literally feel the weight on my skin when I have makeup on. It’s not the best feeling.

What is one beauty item you would always repurchase?

Moisturizer!

What is the first beauty or makeup item you even bought for yourself?

I think it was makeup remover when I started modeling.

Name five grooming items you would recommend to any man.

After-shave, hair gel, moisturizer with SPF, a good bottle of perfume, and hand cream.

What are five makeup items you never leave the house without?

Moisturizer, bronzer or blush, brow mascara, lip balm, and my favorite **** lipstick.

What is one makeup trend do you always do I always follow?

Neat brows.

What is one misconception about the beauty industry people should know about?

One brand fits all—it isn’t necessarily true. Most of the time you really have to take into consideration your skin type, lifestyle, skin sensitivity, etc. You really have to try them out and see what works best on you.

Who are your beauty icons? Why?

Cheryl Cole aka Cheryl Fernandez Versini. I never get tired of staring at her. She’s one face that never bores me.

One a regular day, which tube of lipstick do you reach for?

Make Up Forever in Mat 2.

On a night out, which shade of lipstick goes with any ensemble and occasion?

MAC Ruby Woo.

What are your top three favorite perfumes?

Jo Malone Nectarine Blossom & Honey, Hermes Pamplemousse Rose, L’eau Par Kenzo

Smoky eye or dark lip? Why?

Dark lip. Not a fan of heavy eyes.

Can you tell us about your nightly skincare routine?

Wash face with my gel cleanser. Moisturize and done!

What are the five best skincare products you’ve tried?

Every time I’m pregnant I run to my ever reliable Clarins Tonic Oil for my tummy and *******. It’s the best and most effective product for firming and avoiding stretch marks! Next would be Murad’s ****** cleansers. I alternate between the foaming wash and gel cleansers because they’re the best. Third would be Benefit’s Boo Boo Zap for treating zits! Fourth, Maui Babe’s browning lotion. Fifth, Kérastase Powder Bluff dry shampoo!

What is one thing that you think is lacking in the beauty industry?

Personally, I think everything we need is already available. What else do we need?!

Who is in your beauty black book (hair, makeup, skin, body)?

For my hair, I go to Alex Carbonell. He knows how to manage my wavy hair with the right layers, length, and color.

For makeup, my favorites are Gela Laurel-Stehmeier, Juan Sarte, Steven Doloso, and Angie Cruz. They know exactly what to do with my face and how much I dislike foundation. (Laughs)

For my body, I go to Marie France. I started going to them ever since I gave birth to my daughter almost 12 years ago. I actually enjoy their treatments because they work so well and I don’t even have to break a sweat.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses

this dust-rolled
brown moth
is
patterned
with a band of white
to stand for winter,
when it was just a flimsy bundle
of gristle and sticks

and all the boys in the summertime are sticky and
unclean
like the mouths of dogs -
pink where the sun can't lick

the backs of their necks are baked red brick

girls wear bronzer
piled on thick.

Across
mountain
peaks
like
the
spikes
of your
hair
my fingers
brush,
careening off
glaciers
and sliding
down hidden
slopes.
Curved and
crossed
as the bones
in your spine,
smooth
and
strong
like
the
gliding
wings
of
a hawk.
The tawny-colored
feathers
echoed
in each
iris.
A look,
haunting.
Chills
and
weightlessness
invade
my body
curled
next
to yours
in perfect
sync
to your
heartbeat.
Where
waterfalls
overflow
our emotions
capsizing
our lonely
individual
vessels
amid galaxies
colliding
each
other
on a
spiraling
journey
of
passion.
The heat.
Bronzer
than the
sun in
Summer.
My love.
My moon
and
my stars.
My one
and
only.
Just
two
out-there
planets
together
forever.
Undiscovered,
untarnished,
undefiled
by humanity.

A secret whisper
from
the
nebulas…

*I
   love
            you….

I used an abundance of bronzer to attain that warming look
To bad, I'm see through
My pale dead cold blue glistens for you
You wanted me selfishly
I seen your tendencies shining
You were always better at dining
You never existed
The only evidence is a ripped up shirt,
covered in blue frosting

Its 1:36am and I haven’t slept in weeks
I still haven’t found the guts to tell you you broke my heart.
I can’t even think of sleeping when you’re weighing on my mind
I only spin the wheel of memories I can drown in.
I spin it over and over again, knowing full well the prize has gone.

And its funny how, even after weeks and the miles that have set in between us,
I still sometimes smile thinking about holding your hand.
And that’s the best thing I can think of doing.
I just want to hold your hand.
I don’t need the kisses, I don’t need you to caress me.
The simple joy of your hand in mine is all I ever really wanted.

We’d spend cool spring days driving in your car,
The awkwardness of being together finally starting to melt away (along with the snow.)
You cooked me dinner while you watched Oprah and your sister spied on us.
I forget what it felt like to be in your house.
But I remember just wanting to pour through your shelves of books,
Boil us a *** of tea (mint green tea, like the one you left in my kitchen that I packed away with my life those weeks ago.)
Crack open a book, rest my head on your shoulder and listen to you read.

I can’t say I’ve become too much a fan of the person I am now.
I sit and I wait for you,
I wish and I dream that there’s something I have that she doesn’t.
I almost feel as though I could have known better.

I packed away my life 3 weeks ago.
I tried so hard to leave you in that bedroom we once existed in.
But as it seems the pattern of my life has become being angry I let her take you
And wishing that I could have changed it, and reverting back to the beginning.
I run a slideshow of us every night before I “sleep”
Sleep has turned into this chore that I just can’t seem to complete.
My spelling and sentence structure has begun to wither in the weeks since your departure.
And it would be far too cliché to say that my hope has begun to wither along with them.

I remember when we first began you were working nights
And I stayed up until five am sending you text messages, desperately fighting to stay up for you.
And until the very end I did the same.
I would fall asleep with my phone in my hand, waking only to reluctantly warn you of my impending slumber.
I miss the way you giggled when I told you about the funny things that happened at work.
I miss the way that you would listen to my rants, and offer anger on my behalf.

There was that last night.
You held me through the first movie, and kissed me through the second.
You held my hand as we walked to Tim Horton’s for tea.
You waited outside with my dog, (who always adored you.)
And you kissed me on the deck outside of my house.
You rubbed my back while I was sick,
And you would not accept my apologies for ruining our night.

I woke up that next morning hours before you.
My queen sized bed had somehow become too large for us, and we shared my half.
You held me tight and I listened to your light as air laughter,
And smiled when every time I moved a muscle you’d pull me closer.
I laid on my bedroom floor and ate honeydew and listened to you snore.
I read my book, and basked in the glory of waking up beside my favourite person.
And you slept a bit too late, but I forgave you and kissed you as you slipped off to the gym.

If someone had told me that would be the last time I’d hold you through the night,
I never would have believed it.
And then she stole you away.
I lost the game I didn’t know I was playing.

The person I have become is heavily dependant on caffeine.
She can’t watch movies where people are in love without crying.
She can’t form rational sentences when it’s 1:59 am and she knows all she needs to do is fall into a dream.
She can’t visit those places she ties to you because her heart is tied to her eyes, and sometimes tears flow.

I am okay with the fact that this hurts.
I am okay with the fact that I am changed because of you.
I am not okay knowing I have to hold all of this inside, or spill it across several word documents.
I’m not okay with the fact that you left without a goodbye.
I’m not okay knowing the last time we spoke was so irrelevant to everything.
I am so completely  distraught that spelling and punctuation have fallen away.
I am lost inside of everything I wanted us to be.
Of everything she’s taken away from me.

And there was once a time when my pillow cases were stained from your bronzer.
Where I would sleep on your pillow all the nights we were apart
Because your scent was so sweet it was impossible to sleep without it.
But now you’ve been washed away after so many spin cycles
It makes my head spin.
And the only stains that remain on my pillow case are the darkening memories of sweet kisses that tasted like me and tequila.
And my own makeup, as the wetness from my eyes makes it seep down my face.
And for the minute amount of hours my body lets me sleep, I sleep next to your ghost.

Your hair is darker now.
And there is more ink in my skin than there was before.
Time has passed, and leaves have started to change.
Soon the snow will fall as it always does.
And I will feign interest in the things I detest the most.
I will simulate feelings for another, of that I am sure.

The place we had shared so much laughter,
And so many awkward first kisses,
And so many more confident ones as the months wore on, is no longer my home.
The way you tasted has a way of enduring the time that’s stretched between our bodies.
And  I remember how you used to laugh first thing in the morning.
And I miss being the source of that laughter.

I remember hearing once on a foolish TV show how long it should take me to get over you.
I have this nagging feeling that you will run past the limit I will try to put on you;
Just as you stayed in my heart long past our expiration date.

I used to use awkward words like “indefinitely” because they had always made so much more sense to me.
I don’t want to think that these feelings will stretch on indefinitely.
I want to believe that I can eventually move past my grief.
And hours past the time I should have fallen asleep I find myself jotting down words about you while my dog snores too loudly beside me.

It’s going to be exceptionally hard for me to let this go,
Because I remember how hard it was to believe all of it in the first place.
And now that out short-lived reality has ended I find myself living in some twisted fairy-tale
All I was waiting for (naively) was our ride into the sunset.
All I got was a crushing blow from some Stephen King novel
Where things so out of the ordinary happen you wonder how you didn’t consider them in the first place.

I remember falling asleep outside that bar and you coming back for me,
Pulling me out of the snow and into your arms where I spent the night.
That bar is closed now, as so many things around our creation period have begun to shut down.
That night had been the most real thing that had happened to me in longer than I remember.
I remember the way you lingered in my mind for months after our first encounter
And how I was never really happy until our paths crossed in a (seemingly) more concrete way.

And now as the nights fall (earlier, and earlier) I find myself needing a sweater.
The pattern of my life had changed drastically
And you have made an empty echo in my heart,
One that I’m sure you’re too deaf to hear in your new city.

Its 2:36 am and I still haven’t stopped typing.
I want to sleep, and I want you to sleep next to me so for once I can fall into a deep slumber.
One that will allow me to awaken without the ghosts that have been chasing me since your departure.
I want you to fix the ruins that I’ve been living in,
Because I know that you are the only one who can mend the wounds you (and possibly I) have inflicted upon my not-so-strong self.

I listen to too much country music for someone who lives and breathes rock and roll.
And my poor guitar has seen more tears than she ever has.
My computer is full of playlists that are not doing their job.
No matter how many songs I find to fit the way I feel,
You linger.
And tonight was the first night I can remember really believing its fall,
And now I’m sipping apple cider, and reading all the books I wanted to curl up beside you with.
I think you missed the point where I decided you were the one.

My life constitutes of
a dichotic shift as I
drift
between
a state of self-assuredness
and self loathing.

When I am assured
I am sure
that my eyes are a
golden brown,
my smile whitened and straightened
with perfectly painted lips.
My eyelashes curl upward
as I give you my most intriguing smirk,
inducing you into giving me
those copies for free
and saying "Ay girl"
as I cross the street.
My jeans hug my hourglass figure
like a girl from a video,
and the compliments find themselves
going my way.
My brain swells with
knowledge and an almost-eery insight
as I predict your admiration
and find myself compensating as to
not appear
ostentatious.
I hold myself with the highest regard and
refuse to let a man
make me feel inferior,
to judge me by my exterior because
I am superior to that
treatment.
My wit is quick and
you can bet I'll put a
Slick Rick in his
place if he is even fit to
keep up with my pace.

But then again
I look at him and see
him frowning at my
symmetrical, but overly round
face,
thinking that there might
be other ladies in this place
with a smaller frame,
with a flat stomach and
a tame sense of style,
not a fedora or Timberland boots or a beanie,
not someone who cackles when
she laughs
and talks even more loudly and
obnoxiously than she chuckles.
I'm not smooth enough to
keep your attention as
my obsession with Harry Potter accidentally
gets disclosed,
as I feel my skin-diseased cheeks
bleeding through their concealer and bronzer mask.
A law school degree sounds boring and
braggy as I grasp
at straws, at my only backup source of comfort,
as I attempt to woo you with my brain because
you clearly aren't into a size ten.
You glance out of the sides
of your eyes as you buy me a drink,
or you tell me you aren't
ready for a relationship
even though we've been
sleeping together for a year;
"it's just not you, it's me"
is what I finagle
as a girl named Hailey
posts a picture of you with
your arm around her size two
waist and top-heavey Double D's.
I let down all of my walls and
you forget my birthday,
and I stay devastated over you long
enough for you to
forget my name.

I'm two-in-one;
I'm confidently lacking in confidence and
disapprovingly disapprove of
anyone's opinion of me
but my
own.

Porcelain powder
Amber bronzer
Fuicsha hues for the cheeks

Sandy brows
Black mascara
Red lip stain is what you seek.

I am not just a face

I'm a ******* human being.

I am not just a body.

I am soul ever feeling.

So many men, so ******
and tasteless

So many times
I want to remain
faceless.

I think it’s funny how you wear
Your hair pulled back just right
With your necklace lying perfectly
On your fake-n-bake skin.

I know who you’re trying to impress,
Gooping your eyes with mascara,
Coating your face with bronzer
That makes you shimmer ten shades darker.

It’s not your boyfriend.

You’re not fooling us.

It’s as exposed as your cleavage.

Hot summer mornings, Cold summer nights.
I wake up to the smell of sun block and bronzer
My body absorbs the rays of the sun
like a mermaid at sea.

Hot summer days
full of ice cream and riding convertibles,
Oh summer days, how I love you.

The days dragging twice as long,
the drag I like, the drag I crave.
Hot, **** bonfires at the beach
the smell of freedom
youth
wild
&
love

The sound of the waves is as loud as the
beat of my heart
That's how much I love summer days

& when it's over?
Memories have been made.

We met a coffee shop.

Not a Starbucks or a Caribou or anything fancy like that, it was just a plain local coffee shop that served mediocre java and salted lunch meat on stale bread.

The menu was impressive enough to keep the place open, and after all, it's where I met the man who changed my life.

I pretended to be engulfed in a rather boring Sparks novel that I grabbed off the counter to pass the time when he sat down across from me.

His hair was black. His suit was black. His shoes were black. His skin was a smooth drinkable ivory that only accentuated his stunning green eyes. He was typing away furiously on his laptop, but amidst his deep trance, something broke his concentration.

****.

He caught me looking. Frazzled, I motion for the waitress that doesn't see me to come over and refill my already half full cup. Fill it with some of that mediocre coffee of course.

****.

She doesn't come, but he does. He says my deep brown eyes, caramel skin, and tight curls made him want to write poetry. Anyone worthy of that type of inspiration must be approached, is what he said.

I tell him my name. He goes by William. I never got his last name and I guess it didn't matter. By the time we downed our burnt brazilian roast, we were headed out the door in search for a more intimate setting as if where we were hadn't been quiet enough.

I don't now what made me bring him to my apartment, the eighth floor, sitting on the patio soaking in the sounds of the city below us while sweet white wine ravished our veins.

I knew what was coming.

He commented on my blouse, said how it made love to my breast in a way no man ever could. He said my hips were like curvaceous lilly valleys winding around the hills of Maine. He said my hair was sunkissed with natural bronzer that shined eloquently at the turn of each curl. And as his hand brushed my cheek, he spoke of my dimples and how they were perfectly placed upon my smile blessing anyone whom could successfully create one.

As I came out of my bra, he kissed my neck and kissed my chest and kissed and kissed and kissed until he found what he was looking for. He told me my skin was soft as satin and sweet as sugar right off the cane. When my jeans fell to the floor, he traced his lips along my ***** line, saying he had never desired so badly to taste wild honey.

When I was naked and vulnerable at the mercy of his will, he examined me like a feast as if he didn't know where to begin. He entered me so softly, I could hardly tell he was there. He told me I was beautiful. He told me I was perfect. He told me it was tight and wet and he didn't want to be anywhere else in this **** of a world but right here inside me.

I see stars. I see the sun. I see the highest mountain tops after a soothing rain. I see moonlight on a hot summer night and the beauty in the auburn colors on an October afternoon.

William not only rocked my world; he painted it. His hands carried such an elegance about them that my body ached for his touch even more so. With every moan that escaped my lips, he spoke poetry into my ear. Telling me to "look up and imagine Paris" and "close your eyes and build a dream". All of his mumbo jumbo made sense in a weird kind of way.

I always thought people only climaxed at the same time in movies because that's just something you can't schedule. It slowly sneaks up on you like a tiger in the wild, and just when you think you've lost him; BAM. That's when your ten seconds of ohmyfuckinggoshdontstoprightthere kicks in and you realize it was the best ten seconds of your day and of your life up to that very point.

As swiftly and beautifully as he came, he was gone. But before he left me feeling empty and full at the same time, my previous infatuation and excitability had made me succumb to his trance, and I hardly even remembered what (if anything) of which we spoke.

I say to him, "William, please tell me. Who are you? What is your last name?"
His answer baffles me, and doesn't make any **** sense; "You will find me as the candle in the wind, the condensation on a glass, and the fruitful taste of white zin on your tongue in the heat of the day."

And with that he left.
He left me standing there sticky and lonely and satisfied and mad all at once. I figured I may as well clean up my mess, clean up myself, and continue to rule the day.

I begin a motion to take the sheets off the bed and roll them up in a burrito of sin when I had stopped and realized I didn't want any latex melting in the dryer.  
I search for it. Like, really search for it.

Ok, it's not under the bed.

Where is it?

Not in the burrito that I just tore apart.
Not in the garbage.
Not in his hands when he left.
My eyes never left him.
Or did they?

****.

Valleys and flowers and sunshine and stupid *** Paris. STUPID. ***. PARIS.
All that madness and stupid weird *** just ****** me off. It caught me off guard. That wasn't me back there, careless Carrie. No. No.
That wasn't me.

**** it.
I need to shower.


[....to be continued...]

Bronzer from neck down,
Diamonds on her neck, gold chains dragged by breeds.
Queen bee.
Mistaken, amiss, untrue champagne hair sprayed till shiny.
Glamorous eyes shine in the darkened nights.
To floral crop tops,
To flaunty knee-high shorts.
You wait hand on foot.
She demands.
Sunglasses perched up on her false nose, not even a dime pitched in for bills.
Her ****** struts catch eyes, but don’t bring any of them home.
Chewing on that gum,
Hundred dollar watch branded on her wrist.
Diva.
Bottles herself up, but not the children who need it most.
Lamborghini on point,
Lipstick in its place.
Rubs herself down with the most expensive lotion,
Checks her acrylic, high gloss nails.
Mascara filling, cheeks blushed, pearls on those ears.
Has the world in the palm of her white fair hands.
Crazy.
All of this, but can’t pay a house bill.

Thank you for realizing that you are so unworthy
of such a precious piece of gold that you left her.
But *******.
******* for making her insecure.
You were such an infectious waste that all you ever did for her
was tell her that her weight should be a certain number
******* for making her scared to go swimming
because she doesn't want anyone to see her stomach.
******* for leaving scars on her arms
that she feels obligated to wear long sleeve shirts
even when its 85 degrees outside.
******* for not allowing her to love herself
without foundation, mascara, and bronzer
because now she feels the need to get dolled up, just to take a nap.
******* for everything you ever put her through.
I hope to God I ever see you because I guarantee you don't want that to happen.
I cannot express my hatred for you, even though I've never met you.
On the other hand, thank you for making her the delicate little dandelion she is because now she is my dandelion, and I will never abuse her delicacy like you did.

I tried to move on, I swear I did. But every time I held her waist I didn't feel the tingle that I get with you, and every time I kissed her I didn't taste the sweetness that appeared when you and I kissed. She didn't want to read poetry with me, she didn't get it like you did. She didn't understand why I laughed every time I saw the bronzer stain on my carpet, or why the basement wasn't a safe place anymore. She doesn't understand who am I like you do - like you did.

You cover your skin with primer and foundation and blush
Eyeshadow and mascara and bronzer and lipstick
but with all that makeup who can see your face?

When all the lies are gone
the beauty is in the freckles and lines and blemishes
I see planets and galaxies when you look my way
There are constellations in your skin
and there's a supernova in your smile

And space is cold and stars burn out and die
But I want to see your face for eternity

“pale skin
highlighted cheeks
curled eyelashes- check
dead glossy lips
bronzer underneath
to make the deceased bottom
lip look pouty..
she’s ready to
go.”




-conversations at the morgue

Years have passed, my love, yet your voice still follows me like a lost piece in time. How I've craved for your laughter, the soothing romance of your words, and the way 'I miss you' once came from you—that made my heart falter and nearly die.

Must love need such sacrifice before its reality blooms and becomes genuinely ours to hold? I find none that can match it, despite my mother, with her kind heart, sending out men of money she likes, expecting to see me loved solely by fortune. In her eyes, I am beautiful and graceful, knowledgeable and deserving of the best heart. Is the heart yours? I don't know. All I know is that I revere you, despite the fact that my reason and aching are at odds—an Armageddon within me.

So here's a taste of it, my love. A love I once held with naïve wonder, thrilled by something I barely understood. But now I'm all too familiar with its gravitational pull and resistance. You may grow to loathe me for this. Still, a part of me wants to see you; you know my favourite food and where we met. However, I have no desire to revisit those memories; let them remain where they belong, and I will go there with whomever I choose. You, my darling, are no longer sacred in that sense.

Sometimes I think, if love is so strange, let me live forever—such beauty is worth more than a fleeting existence. I do not want death or an end, but if it is necessary, we must have one. However, the universe feels like a half-dreamed story, I can't understand. Would that it were everything but a delusion! But if I go out to the streets and cuss at the loud passers-by, they will yell back, won't they? If I upset my boss, she'd kick me out, wouldn't she? Then all of this must be true. But that's strange—very strange—and I don't understand it. And you still love me, don't you?

At times, I still wonder what you truly want from me. You seem to have no desire other than to completely possess me and hold me tight. Isn't it only a simple need to feel me near again, to know that what we dreamed and felt is as real as your own and mine? Yes, what we've loved in thought and heart aligns like stars—but you have no idea how much I've changed. My love stays unaffected.

If only you knew that you are not equally deserving in my eyes as you think. You have no idea exactly which path I will choose or what the future holds. Yet, how beautiful it is to see 'I love you' in my eyes every day—a shelter, a wish realized. That is exactly what my heart desires. However, we are separated, and I am free to go as I like. I make no guarantees, simply that I still hold you in my heart. But my life, dear love, is mine alone—not for you!

I don't know the weight of your troubles, your love, or the loneliness that keeps you where you are. Perhaps your pain outweighs mine, leading me to question whether I should wish you gone. You've rusted like iron, and I'm the stone that has been softened by time and is meant to sparkle like diamonds. May my foolishness make things even more difficult? For the time being, wisdom is more than enough. And, despite my selfishness, I can't take the thought of losing you. You must stay by my side until I can find joy without you. Perhaps this is the price you must pay, but in the end, it will be worth the difficulty I face.

What if we were imprisoned by the world itself, destined to love one another forever, and suffered an endless misery? Is it possible that we were meant to cross paths and fall in love again in some previous life? I fail to recognize how, but I know you; therefore, it can't be any other way. You have a familiarity, a knowing, as if your soul and mine had already danced in silence that only we know.

My darling, how lovely it would be to leave this world in your loving hands. But is it possible that even if I were to marry someone else in the future, the sight of your face would be the only thing that would bring me peace? The cruelest of fates, wouldn't it? Because it is you that I have loved, both joyfully and sorrowfully. We are intertwined in both tenderness and pain, like a rose and its thorn. Oh God, the pain of loving you sends through the heavens—how many times have I spoken your name? My friends are aware of you. My mom is aware of you. Who gives us this love, though? For what purpose does God permit it? How much of this can I take?

Didn't you initially blame the heavens and all of their gods? Allow them to work now in their unusual, fateful way. And if that is the case, then allow me to receive the karma I have sown, just as you must in due time.

My soul's cry is known by your listening heart, Lord, if you do indeed hear. I hand in to your will, whatever it may be, because you are the one who has seen me through this storm. You know my heart, and by knowing me, you also know him, even though my prayers haven't reached him. Give us your blessing so that we can be happy no matter what happens or, at the very least, feel at ease knowing that we are protected by one another's love. I beg you alone: Lord, lighten his burdens. If that lightening means a life apart from me, then so be it. I would have him freed, given he finds peace.

I realize that you might only want to love me at this moment, but even so, my heart still loves you, even though I worry that my efforts may decrease or stop completely. There is a desire inside of me for something greater than what we have been. Even though you are very kind, it is not enough to keep me because you need to accept everything about me and my family in order to possess me. This will be a huge burden for you, my love. However, I assure you that I will see you again, though in a different lifetime, at a moment so special. Because even after I'm gone, you will always be a part of my soul. I want you to be the last person to hold me when death calls for me—by my side as I turn to dust. My dear, what a burden it must be for you. I long to rise again because it is already too heavy for me to handle.

Maybe I won't order the ramen, and if I do, it would be better to enjoy it by myself. After all, our meeting spot is just a mall that I love, where I will stroll around and spend in treats to prove to the world that I am capable of standing tall and on my own. My lipstick, blush, bronzer, and contour, my shoes, clothes, and bag all reflect a world I've created, with each item being more costly than the one before it. Nevertheless, I question if you are worthy of walking with me. Wouldn't a wealthy, attractive man be more appropriate for a woman like me? I know you used to say you were busy, but what have you turned into?

Love, you have taken up so much of my time, making me rebuild, only to come back when everything has changed. My once-steady heart is now an overturned table. Now, where have you gone? Not quite as far as I was in 2019? Maybe 2020? Have you in any way made your parents proud of you? And I would say that mine have supported me through every storm and seen me slap away every hard reality. Silence has never been an ally in our battles. They are too familiar with you. My dear, your hopes are too high. Even though I didn't understand her at the time, my mother saw you as something I couldn't hold from the beginning. I can now understand why, through the lens of her sorrow—her own first love lost to the passage of time. I'm not going to wait to hear about your passing. But know that you are going to understand when it's time for me. As you always have, you will regret it in the moment—you're always too late.

You will never be mine, my love; my soul cries. This writing, this troubled text, was the result of a ****** conflict between emotion and logic that was impossible to stop. You are a myth that continues in the back of my mind and is sewn into every part of my days. Perhaps we will cross paths in another life. Let your actions speak louder than words if you genuinely love someone. Given that I can't believe this, even as your voice echoes in my ear. I have put you in the past, out of my reach, save for a moment of desire. I might give up if you want me in the middle of the night, but know that it will be without love. All that's left is an unsatisfied hunger for you. Maybe it's the fire we used to share, the touch, or the body I miss. However, it's not that simple—no, my desire extends farther back, to a moment when I believed I had truly loved you. But now all I can feel is the pain of the flesh I want.

My heart would shake with fear if death were fighting for you right now, because what if the afterlife were real and you could see me from some distant, invisible realm? However, I would prefer that you be sent to a place of eternal pain rather than peace because of the years of suffering you have caused me. And yet—how you have turned into such a complete and miserable tragedy that even my anger has been controlled by your own miserable condition.

Should you ask as to whether we will ever fall in love again, I give up. The weight of it all aches too much in my soul for me to know how to respond. I hope you get it. Even though I am only a passing thought to you, I am standing here with a grudging sense of happiness in my chest—perhaps blessed that you want to keep me and wish for me forever. How are we supposed to live? I'll ask again: do you get me? I seek happiness—just you and me, in bliss—rather than sadness in our times together. You still only touch me in bed and give me momentary pleasure; there is no heart-to-heart exchange. You have no place in my future. I hope, by the gods, you understand this.

I've prayed for eternity to drive away this desire and to abandon my love for you, just as one might exorcise a curse. I wish I could have such a miracle, but should I call upon someone to erase you from my thoughts? Oh, if such cruelty could ever be reversed, how painful it would be for you.

When people ask me "How are you?"
To most I'd just say "I'm fine".
An automatic response like I'm a robot.

And to the some I'd say
"I'm still alive, thanks for checking up on me"

"Unfortunately alive" if I'm not in the mood and

"The prodigal son returns" when It's a long time no see.

They'd laugh. They know I'm not one with usual response. Not really the "Good morning" or "Good whatever" person. I'd rather get to the point of actual conversation skipping the usuals.

When people see me they'd fill me with adjectives and all I do is flash a smile and ignore. I'm not good at compliments. But to some I'd grin, smirk even and tell the ugly parts besides what's seen.

I'd tell how
"Extra inches would make me stand tall"
or how "Inches off my waist would make me embrace myself more".
I would tell how I don't use "Concealer to conceal my scars"
or even "Bronzer to highlight my features".
I tell them how "I'm okay with no beauty parlour"
or how "My eyebrows, hair looks".

Somedays I walk a "STAR" and somedays "HOMELESS". It doesn't matter to impress.

Some would tell
"You're already beautiful without any"

while some would tell
"Why the insecurities? Just embrace yourself"

and some
"I wish you loved yourself enough to know your worth".

I'd like to tell them the truth but never mind I'd nod and shrug.

I'm odd. Always been. I never fit in the crowd.
I'm not an introvert. I lie between the lines.

I mostly have a stern face and cold stare that I could chase anyone across a mile from approaching or so I've been told.

I've been given other adjectives too, apart from looks. Looks can be deceiving. I was always judged having an innocent face, they'd say
"You're not the one to endure worse in life."

I'd like to tell
"LIFE ***** ALL" but then I'd simply smile, make them believe I agree.

I have a tendency to laugh at myself. I'm good at that. Since I was a child I've been called names and they don't offend me at all.

I'm more of "What-ifs, Buts" than "Ands".
They say "You're such a pessimist".
I'd like to tell "I'm realistic" but I've come to accept not all are "ME" and it's okay to let them live in their bubble of perception. I've known the difference between fitting in and standing out and it doesn't matter to me what others think. Society never pleased me anyways.

It's not that
"I don't know my self worth or not love myself enough" that I let others make me fall.
I know when to hold on and when to let go.
"I'm a slave for love.

In love, pain and happiness go hand in hand. But if it's only pain then it's about time you question yourself, why?"

Respect to some has been wiped off from their dictionary but to me it stands first. I'm a mess like the rest but I don't linger on the brokenness.

Appreciating beauty comes naturally to anyone but"What's self love if I can't love the ugly parts of me?"
And "What's your love if you can't understand me to appreciate enough?"
I'd say you don't know me at all.

So, when I talk to you about how damaged I am it's just a test to know your threshold over mine.

I adore the "IMPERFECT ME" to the extent that I don't get offended when people try to bring me down.

And that my friend is how "I ******* LOVE MYSELF."