I’ve said it all already. I think the time has finally come. There are no words left that I haven’t already said to describe the multitude of ways I am so bad at love.

Bad at love? Is that what it is? Or is it more of a being bad at the part that comes after the love. Love is easy, if you’ve found the right person. Showing love, feeling love… you can’t beat that. Its the part after, when you have to trust, have patience, be easy to love yourself.

Trust? Is trust the right word? I feel like whats missing is trust, but I’m not mistrusting their actions. I can’t trust their intentions. Tell me they love me and I act like they don’t.

Is my confidence so shaken? Is the concept of someone genuinely liking who I am so difficult to grasp that I so consistently deny it? And then push them away. I push them away with my paranoia.

It happens every time. And still, so much experience but an inability to find any more words.


Coffee. I’m sitting here drinking my morning cup, taking in the dark of my apartment while the sun peaks through the blinds. It’s Saturday morning and I’m up and functional before most, mind racing with thoughts of how things go wrong. In a city that never sleeps, I am wide awake.

Candles. Burning. The flicker of the flame makes the otherwise dark room glow. Air filled with scents of vanilla and smoke. I am calm.

You. Thoughts of how you treated me, affectionate one moment and distant the next. Gone in the blink of an eye. How do people do that? Disappear without warning or notice? This is not the first time, I am sure it won’t be the last. To have so little respect or concern for a person you spent hours pouring your heart out to, what made this so bad?

Me. I beat myself up. What did I do, what is wrong with me? Why am I so hard to love? Maybe I was not your cup of coffee. Maybe the connection was one sided. But still, you said you missed my voice. Said you wanted more. Then you were gone faster then you came. And maybe I was not your cup of coffee, but I am one damn good cup.