the finale As my romantic life had been particularly dull these past few months, any space that a love interest would’ve taken up in my mind had been occupied by the curiosity of what would ensue or would potentially unravel with Ten. …

I was the broken one: a role I did indeed adopt but was also quietly understood between the both of us. She was the angelic, calm reassuring presence and together it was a beautiful balance. My fire would lure us into trouble and her air would bring us back. It…

part one I spent this past new year’s eve celebrations with an ex — or that’s what I’d refer to him as, sometimes “former lover” purely for shock value and my own entertainment. In truth, Im not sure if he’d consider me an ex. …

a dishonourable mention: Aux-1 First off, I should state that this individual didn’t make the kill list — for reasons you’ll discover by the end of this article. I am apprehensive about having make that decision and question if it’s even truthful but fuck it; it’s my narrative. I am…

halloween horror — My therapist asked me today if there were any specific days that reminded me of Nick, other than his birthday and the day he died. Ironically, Halloween is undoubtely the answer. …

Truth of the matter is, Forty-one needed a furnished place to stay and I needed a short-term roommate before a friend could eventually take his place when her lease ended. Forty-one and I shared one conversation, if that, before we had made that decision. (Thirty-one days, the last month of…

a Tulum tale told twice I recently had a very unique experience of reuniting with friends and revisiting Tulum, a place that I’m sure many would describe as enlightening, where they’ve “found” themselves, learn to manifest their own journeys or some bullshit. …

what is so enchanting about the smallest fragment of attention from the most mediocre men that is enough to sustain my interest in them for far too long? : a history What I confused for masochism, an unabashed gluttony for continuously getting hurt despite knowing better, is what I’ve now realized is actually hedonism. My everlasting lust for whatever makes me feel good, even in the slightest, that is so absolute that my boundaries for bullshit is near infinite.

no room for self-pity This form of expression and platform, slutwork as a whole, derived from many things- most of it inspired by my disastrous love life and an avenue for me to pour out my oh-so-tender heart that had been continuously pummelled again and again. …