A little of something or nothing at all.

The thing about me is, I only write when I’m feeling emotional. And right now I’m a mixture of sad and royally-fucking-angry. So I started to write this thing, I guess you could call it a start of a story. It’s nothing really but maybe I’ll continue it next time I fight with people eh?


She had been pretending to be asleep for over 4 hours. Her parents did seem a little worried when she said she didn’t really have an appetite and just needed an early night. What they didn’t know was that underneath the blanket, instead of her usual pajamas were a pair of denim pants, a red hoodie, and feet with shoes.

She got up and kneeled down to pull out the bag she packed only a few hours ago from under her bed. Earlier, when she planned on packing, she couldn’t quite figure out what to take and what to leave behind. So she decided to go with minimum amount of clothing, one picture of her family where she was only about 12, her trusty old camera, her journal and a stash of dollar bills that she’d been collecting since she cut out that picture of her dream car 3 years ago.

She looks around the room one last time. Makes sure everything is in place – the note on her bed, which took her hours to write, ironically had only a few words jotted down on it, “Don’t look for me. I love you.” – And her phone lay on her bed side table. She thought it was necessary to leave it behind if she really wanted to go away.

While she walked out of her house, she couldn’t help but feel relieved. Although, whenever she used to think of this moment, she was worried emotions would take over her and that she wouldn’t go through with the plan.

She walked away. And not once, did she look back.


“Hey! This is my…um…what are we exactly?”

Relationships. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. Lovers. Hook-ups. Friends-with-benefits.

“I have zero experience in this field.” – This statement was true up until a few days ago.

Till the 7th of June, 2016, I really had no idea about how these things worked. All I knew was from the books or movies, or my friends’ experiences.

My friends say that what happened is not necessarily a bad thing. They told me that things always happen for a reason. But I don’t know about that. I just can’t help but wish I could take it all back. Cause right now, I am so confused. About a lot of things.

Let me explain.

I went on a trip with friends to this really beautiful (and cold) place. The nights would be lit up with a million stars. And the mornings would be the only time we all would be sober.

I’m not a bad drunk. I’d like to think I’m a fun drunk actually. I loosen up a bit, dance like no one’s watching, sing at the top of my lungs without a care in the world and make a hundred friends in a night. Even my friends would never be worried because they knew that even though I’m not in my senses, I can take care of myself.

When what happened that night, happened, we all said it was cause we were too drunk. I agreed. I’ll let you in on a secret-I wasn’t really drunk. At all. I drank quite a bit that night and I got a little high too, but I was still in my senses. But everyone around me? Not so much.

I keep telling myself that I hooked up with him because we both were very drunk. I really want to believe it. But I know what the truth is. I woke up at 4am that morning. I just sat up and he did too after a few minutes. And the look on his face was hurtful. We both knew what we did was wrong. And we didn’t know what to do about it.

He knew his best friend liked me. I had a feeling his best friend (who is also my best friend) liked me but I just pushed that thought away. But when we were sitting next to each other with nothing but regret, I knew for a fact that what I thought was in fact the truth. I got up ready to leave, and he just held my hand and in the softest voice he asked why I was leaving. I smiled at him and made up some shitty lie. We both knew I was lying. But I just had to leave. Looking back at it now, I realize, I really didn’t want to. Looking back at it now, I realize, he didn’t want me to.

The next morning was so fucking awkward. My best friend told me he liked me. He said what happened the previous night doesn’t matter. And that he’s ready to wait for me. The guy I hooked up with wouldn’t talk to me at first, but later when we were alone, he apologized for what happened. I told him not to. I told him it takes two to tango and that I was a part of what happened too and that he doesn’t need to apologize.

A week after the trip ended, while I was talking to my best friend, I realized that I liked him a lot. And after forcing myself to not chicken out, I told him. Since we are in different countries for the holidays, I told him over the phone and judging from his voice, he seemed happy…I guess.

Things are going good now. We’re talking a lot. I miss him. In two weeks we’ll see each other again.

I really like him, guys. I do. He’s so good to me.

But for some reason, I can’t get the other guy out of my mind. I dream about that night sometimes. I don’t want to though. I don’t like dreaming about him. It’s not fair to my best friend. I keep telling myself it’s because he’s the first guy I’ve ever been intimate with. I keep telling myself that even if I don’t want to, I’ll have some sort of feeling for him because of that very reason. I hope that’s it. I really do.

Best friend. We haven’t defined the relationship yet. I’m just waiting to see him before we do. A huge part of me is so sure about him. And a tiny, nearly non-existent part, is not.

I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do.