For we must all learn to howl.

What a mess one stupid moment of anger and impulse can cause - a picture, a text, an awkward phone call. You're right - being angry at you, demonising you - it all makes for better posts. But I won't do that because I can't, because I'm angry at you, sure, but I'm also angry at myself and I most certainly don't hate you. So don't be a dumbass. It's both our faults, and it's also simply because we weren't right for each other. A friend told me that I'd become used to, dependent even, on your presence. And he's right - I've become used to the fact that you were in my life, dependent on the knowledge that I'd be able to see you at least once a week no matter how busy. I miss you - I miss your voice, how you hold me against you, how you look at me just before you try to kiss me. I miss how you're always playing those weird games you love so much, and I miss how you always promise to teach me how to play them someday, as if...

I miss you. I miss being able to text you, knowing for sure that you'd receive my message and reply in your own time. I miss being able to wish you good morning, good night, good whatever in between. I miss being able to ask how your day was, how you're feeling. I just miss hearing from you, okay? I miss having you in my life because I'd gone and carved out a huge part of my life to put you in and all of a sudden you're gone and there's this huge empty space sitting there and staring at me and I don't know what to do . And I've been alternating between crying and acting as if everything's normal the way it is and generally feeling very hollow because everything's grey again and I can't even muster the energy to give a damn about anything else besides this all-consuming grey, this feeling of emptiness. I want to text you, to ask you how you're doing. I can't, and I won't - we promised we'd stay away from each other for a wh...

I don't know what to say. You hurt me - how dare you even think for a second that just because I cannot show you the same affection it automatically means that I do not think of you the same way you might for me - and it hurts, it hurts. Everything hurts. I think I'm fine until someone talks to me about something small, insignificant, and then the tears don't stop until I walk away to stand in quiet chaotic thought. It's because of you that I finally know what people mean when they refer to mascara-streaked tears. I love you - I never told you because I didn't know to trust myself, didn't know what love was supposed to mean. I think some part of me was afraid to say it because it would feel like saying it to save us. I love you - or at least, I love you enough to mourn. I don't know if you'll chalk it up to some natural reaction to being broken up with, I don't care even. I never got to tell you, and if you're really reading my blog then I ...

Hacking away at my film review now -  every time I need to write this quote always ends up popping into my head.

I always dye my hair red - I started dyeing it two years ago after I completed my internship because I felt that it was time, I was ready, and I haven't dyed it a different colour ever since. Of course, constant dye jobs do nothing for the hair, which is why I allowed mum to nag me into doing a henna job on my hair instead of the usual bright red I ask of the hairstylist. The result is that my hair now looks orangey instead of red, which is what I expected but nevertheless found myself incredibly disappointed with. (The irony is that I never have such complaints about my hair colour whenever my red fades to orange within the first two weeks of the fresh dye.) Tsuki-kun told me that he felt the orange suited me better since the red was too bright, but I can't quite bring myself to agree with him. See, the thing about red is that I chose the colour myself - it was the colour I was absolutely sure that I wanted for myself, and I never regretted the colour. Sur...

Doubt. He’s the one you tell yourself to stay away from, but the lover you return to every night. Maybe it’s not entirely by choice, but he knows you oh so intimately – he’s explored every inch of you, and he’s a patient lover that he knows exactly where to touch to make you shiver. Perhaps it’s no exaggeration to say that maybe he even knows your next move before you’ve even decided on one. He’s the one you promise yourself never to see again as you dress yourself the morning after, while he lounges on the bed and laughs as he watches. You know those hungry yellow eyes all too well, dear. He needs no sweet words to seduce you, no leash and collar to own you, and yet you are his – mind, body and soul. Doubt takes all, pet. He is the master you both love and loathe – you question the roles of master and dog in this relationship of yours, wonder what it would be like to be free from him someday, ponder the possibility even, yet run back to him the moment he calls...