I'm the worst when it comes to communicating. I wouldn't want to be in contact with myself let alone other people. I have noticed I have the worst pattern. I have a sudden burst of interest and I will talk and text for hours and this can go on for days or weeks and at most a few months. Then I have nothing to say. I avoid the conversation, the social media platforms shared and go MIA for as long as years. The anxiety that strikes every time I see a new message is insane.I'm a jerk I now admit it

Recently I've been struggling with my writing. I know the direction I want my stories to go in, I know the next part of the plot but for some reason I can not get the words to write it. Its frustrating but I'm not giving it up again. Its a place of comfort and escape so I will go on.

I have done a lot of bad things to myself but I'm glad recently the urge is not there. I get the occasional voice in my head but I'm managing it. I plan to get tattoos on my scars after they fade a little more to give myself a fresh start. Hopefully the thoughts will not resurface. A fresh start. I feel like I'm now getting it. Its feels more free to think this way rather than being negative all day long.

Its always comes down to this. I know I should not expect anyone to reach out any more but I still hope. I'm a jerk for that but it takes away too much when I over invest in a relationship but I'm left with nothing if I don't put in much effort. I'm alone again after getting tired of trying too much while still maintaining the type of relationship I wanted with them. Did they want more, sure but that gave me too much pressure that the thought of contacting them again makes me too anxious.

Its always comes down to this. I know I should not expect anyone to reach out any more but I still hope. I'm a jerk for that but it takes away too much when I over invest in a relationship but I'm left with nothing if I don't put in much effort. I'm alone again after getting tired of trying too much while still maintaining the type of relationship I wanted with them. Did they want more, sure but that gave me too much pressure that the thought of contacting them again makes me too anxious.

As a self appointed homebody I tend to not know what is going on outside so it makes it awkward whenever I meet people discussing a trending topic, movie,song or anything really. Now when I think of it its hilarious how I manage to play it off like I understand what they are talking about when all I want to do is run for the hills screaming, 'don't ask me! I do not know anything'.

I'm starting to realize its okay to be me. I don't need to change at all or copy what the others are doing. I tried to do that for some long I nearly reached my rock bottom. Do I regret the things I did to myself? Yes. But despite what anyone says they were part of the journey and I won't hide anymore. Its okay I'm me and I will slowly get to a,point I love all of me.

Everyday I wake up and see people all around me busy with life. Some working, some married or some with partners planning their lives. For a second I think to myself, am I doing life all wrong? Am I not doing what I'm supposed to be doing? Then I remember the sentence I kept telling people whenever they asked me to describe myself, ' I'm just me. Unique and one of a kind'. Now it makes sense to me. I can't measure up myself with people who aren't me. We work on different paths of life.

Its the horrible feeling you get that unsettles me the most. Waiting for that one text message that makes you giddy. That one call that turns your insides all soft and mushy. All the wait knowing none will come. I thought I had learned that lesson from the pain that comes with it, but here I am waiting again.

Trying to be perfect was a goal I had. It dragged me down to depth of despair and self loath. I didn't like who I was. I didn't like my imperfections. But I realized that the thought of being perfect stopped from living. It trapped me in that moment not moving forward but replaying the past over and over like a broken record. I'm learning to love me. As imperfect as I am I'm a masterpiece that I should celebrate. Being imperfect is the best form of perfection. Unique and one of a kind.

What type of rain am I? Am I the light rain that is calm and barely enough to soak through your clothes? Am I the moderate rain that even as it falls on you it is comfortable and you want to play in it? Am I the heavy rain that fall on you mercilessly soaking you to bone within seconds of contact accompanied but brutal winds that chill you to bone? Or am I a thunderstorm that destroys you while flooding every single space you provide? Which of these am I to you?

At the end of it all despite the pain I feel, I'm proud to have come this far. I'm glad I have finally given myself the chance to feel this way.

It all needs a positive point of view. When you believe in something a door opens and possibilities you never thought of present themselves for you. All you need is to reach out grab them and take the risk. You may never know the outcome of your faith.

"Patience pays. I want you to wait and be patient." I want to knock someone's teeth out at this moment. I want to know her current condition not to listen to them telling me to be patient. "What happened? Everyone has been avoiding this question for the past three days." They all look at me sadly and tell me to be patient yet again.I have a feeling I will not like what they are hiding from me. What happened to her?

My mind is quiet. It is quite weird as I'm used to hearing my negative feedback after every conversation.I shouldn't have said this, I shouldn't have said that. I like the silence. Its peaceful.

He made me choose this. He wasn't the entire reason but he was a catalyst in the whole process. At first the thought was there because I wanted to be what he preferred. It wasn't possible but his timely words and his encouragement played a big part in my changes. I'm glad I met him. I'm glad I didn't get him. I'm glad I did it all. I'm not there yet but I will be someday. I want to tell him thank you for being a small part of my good memories and being there when I needed someone to stand by me.

Texts tend to be tedious because of the amount of thought put in one reply. On rare occasions they are a source of joy, each reply received and send with anticipation. On such rare moments, the conversation is natural and never ending. I treasure those moments as I've had the pleasure of meeting someone I have a great connection with. They are so rare that I sometimes forget how good they feel. Finally, I have found one such person again. Hope they stay. I feel happy. I can finally let it out.

He looked happy and content with his life. He rambled on and on about all sorts of things, none of which made sense at all. The other passengers in the matatu were either laughing or shouting at him to keep quiet. His face never losing that big smile,he turned to acknowledge every one of their demands and complains before resuming his talks. Fluent in English, kiswahili and his native language, Kikuyu, he was an odd addition to a rather ordinary morning. His joy was infectious and to be envied.

I can't help but look at her. She has this aura that seems so magnetic that it draws people in. She is always in a crowd while I live in the shadow. Not the typical outcast and popular girl type of setting. I'm just in her shadow. She makes it so hard to stay invisible but being anything but that would be a catastrophe. I hope I can keep it that way. Her and her invisible shadow.

Your love was a fairytale.You made it so magical and joyous that I forgot my reality. Then you popped that bubble of fantasy. Woke me from my dream. Showed me prince charming doesn't exist. The perfect villain who would go against the world for me never existed. There was only you and your flowery promises. You and your unforgivable lies. You and my broken heart. You and my crumbled self. You and the pieces of my heart that still crave for your love. But it's never going to be like in the books.

I look at him as he lays on the cold ground with a runny nose and his favorite toy cars. He loves the cold floor. No matter how many times he is taken off it ,he always ends up there as though its his comfort. I'm afraid to leave. He has been my anchor for almost two years and for that I'm grateful. His pure honesty love has been the best thing I've experienced in a long time. I smile sadly knowing I need to let go. Its time to let go. I look at him as he give out his very infectious laughter.