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GHOSTs of PAST LOVERS on unpacking and letting go

Because I was young,


I am 15 and in love with you. We are lying in bed and you stroke my hair and I want the moment to last forever. But I see someone at the corner of my eye and I am scared that we are exposed, because I am not supposed to love you but I do. You got out of bed and I am struggling to hold onto the moment and before I knew it the moment was gone right in front of my eyes. I sleep on my sides because I want to remember how it was to fall asleep on your chest.

There is something about falling in love when you are young and you let the world dictate how you love and what it means to be loved. Relationships when you are young are messy and you get lost. Sometimes you cry because you don’t matter enough. When I was young, my relationship with my parents was terrible. I hated my siblings and didn’t really had a space I could call my own. Along with the plethora of romantic media I was consuming, my perception of love was not only fucked up but it was selfish. All I wanted was love, romantic love. I thought it could make life better, that it could make me happier. I hate that the media is so pervasive. It took me so long to be able to see that love isn’t about grand gestures or beautiful people. I wonder how many girls are left behind, constantly worrying if they were worthy of love if they weren’t beautiful enough or skinny enough. Fuck that shit.

I want pretty. I want pretty love. I want love that looks beautiful when we take photos, Pretty when I cry. Nothing else matters, Only pretty matters.

I WANT PRETTY Even if it makes me sad, Even if it makes me cry, Only pretty matters.

For D.



You taught me so much. You showed me what it was like to be patient, to love, to give. But we were young, You were far. I think you were the best thing to happen to me in my early twenties. We moved past comparison, and we both grew. The anger I had, fatigue, or maybe how we both felt lost as we become adults. Maybe we were learning. Breathe you tell me, B R E A T H E.




I really thought you were perfect. And that’s the problem isn’t it?

Maybe we were just too confused with whatever was happening in our life at that time, we were young, rash, manic and fucking high all the time. You were so kind to me, generous, But also angry and chauvinistic. And I liked that. You came and you left I don’t know where you are and I dont think I will ever know but you left this weird mark in me. Like you came, stayed for a bit, Left, and then took a part of me with you too. You’re so selfish, but I was too.

There has got to be some point in time when we realise that the love we want are often romanticised by people who came and left. It was so hard, to stop and take a look at where I was, to know that I did not become more lovable because you started wanting me, or that I did not become more beautiful because you told me I was. Love? Fuck love. Relationships are so fucking overrated. I became stronger alone.


Your age bothered me.



You were so protective and I am so grateful but I don’t know what I was doing and who I am supposed to be to you. You bought me nice things and took me to nice meals, but you were also slowly consuming a part of me that I didn’t want to let go of. I am not made for consumption, I can’t handle parts of me leaving Doing what you want Or even fucking. You wanted so much more than I could give. It was too much But you thought that I kept taking and taking without realising that you are the one that is actually making me smaller and smaller each day. I was hurting, you knew, but you couldn’t do anything. I am not yours to protect nor control

I am sorry for hurting you, but leaving was the best.

Of course I struggle with the decisions I make in life. Don’t you?

I collect pieces of memories that happen in my life, hoping that these pieces I collect will make things better. But I am afraid of slowly becoming the people I have left behind, becoming the people that touched and took pieces of me as I left and took pieces of them. I love fiercely and ugly and strongly and harshly. There are many things left for me to find, And I love the way how memories can haunt me. People come and go, that’s not a new piece of information, but I think that the way we deal with these memories and how we grow and leave them is important for making sure our hearts are not for the taking. Remember, everything is transient. Everything will leave, and only you will stay behind.

Ghosts of Past Lovers  

You still dream about the people lost in your memory, fabricated by your nostalgia and romanticised by your broken heart.

Ghosts of Past Lovers  

You still dream about the people lost in your memory, fabricated by your nostalgia and romanticised by your broken heart.