Listen to me put you down.
Beg me to make you beg for more.
Then call me a bitch for stomping all over your heart.
You always get your way.
I thought about people who hit me. In plural. I experienced enough before adulthood. Yet at 23, when a man I loved hit me, I knew something was wrong.
I ring the doorbell and it’s opened by my friend Salim, bouncing up with all the energy of his 21-year-old self. It is his birthday and the gift I am carrying is a book I know that he’ll enjoy. Salim and I have been classmates and bonded over a common…
I relate to emotion visually. Humiliation is a mottled dark green flecked with brownish-red. Peace is a silvery pool with traces of blue.
You tell me this is what it means to loveYou say that is love, this is lovingYou point me to poetryas a dictionary for the love languageAnd therapy terminologyto dissect this feeling These my friend,are conversations about love,Not love itself(And note, that I call you ‘friend’,not ‘my love’)Because I’ve read…
Today I’m going to talk about love. It’s an overused term, I know. But I haven’t written about it in a long time. Not really. I have been suspicious of love, waged war with it, tried to control it, compartmentalise it and even ignore it. Today, I sit down with…