In absence of a book.


A little heartbroken over life.

Hello… maybe you noticed that my posts disappeared. They lost their way and so I reserved them for my eyes only. Back tonight simply because it’s too dark to write in my black journal, and artificial lighting kept to a minimum is where I’m at.

As the title suggests. My heart is a little broken. Not in a romantic sense. In the sense of hope. The last few weeks I have found solace in writing and reading. But my mind is still at unease.


Life in this century is all about contact. Physically. Mentally. Socially.


We want to touch more. To see more. To know more. To connect more. We want to be able to talk to the ones we love, even when they’re thousands of miles away.

My heart is a little sad. To visualise. It’s like I am sat on the floor. Torn papers all around me. The torn papers represent hope, relationships, friendships…. confidence. Sitting. I can’t do anything but look and wonder.

2017. You appear to be my year for disappearance. Maybe this is the year of my life in which I have to experience disappearance in any and every form imaginable, and this scares me as to what is to come.

Creatively painting the truth.

My favourite line I have ever written is “I am still trying to figure out if I am both too much and not enough”.

I have been told countlessly how wonderful I am, how much of an inspiration, a good person, a change from the norm I am, and have been. But the exit. The bloody excruciating exit. Apparently, as lovely as I am, I am just as lovely to leave.

People can build you up, just so they can be the one to remove the foundations and watch you crumble.

I am all these good things. Yet. I am still not enough. I am still not worth the consideration, and right now I’m crumbling. It doesn’t mean I have lost… it just means I need to rebuild.

I feel so much loss. So many conflicting emotions. Night time has become amongst the trio of my solace.


I met you once and you served me coffee. I didn’t catch your age, but from our conversation it sounded like you had grown up in this city. You smiled warmly, and had chosen glass animals for the cafe playlist… I loved this.

Kai, maybe I will never get to extend our conversation again, but you gave me hope in the random warmth in the world.

Maybe you had broken hearts, cut people with words and spit hatred into the world. Who hasn’t in life. You also made me feel human. Something which not even those closer to me have done lately.


You’re named this because of the way you move. Because you don’t need a conventional story. You helped me shed blood, peel flesh and turn purple. You let me feel something other than numbness and mundanity.


Our frequencies overlap but sweetie… they are so different.

We met on overlapping frequencies. On waves that ran parallel and crossed over at certain points.

But they are different.

We are different.

We met at the overlap.

We parted, and we met again.

Our frequencies. Will run parallel, but far apart.


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