Old Shrew

When I was a kid there was this game.  in this game the teacher choose five girls to stand in line in front of the class. then she called for four boys in turns to pick a girl for pretense marriage. the husband-less ten years old girl is the new “Old Shrew” the kids use to yell it at the top of their voices “Old Shrew, Old Shrew you will never be married and you will be alone”

somehow- that girl was always me.

I have no idea what the teacher thought to herself with this game. as on adult and a teacher myself- I call it abuse and neglect. but that does not change the fact that I can still hear them, every time I mess things up with a guy. after every break up and every wait. I am fucked up. I am truly am.

At times it really hits me, you know? why can’t I just be normal. why do I have to be this Introvert mess? but I promised myself. when I run away to Europe for a month- I will never let other people decide for me. no one is going to tell me what I am and what my problems are. only I get to decide if I am fucked up- nobody else have the right for that.

no one.


I don’t know

I don’t know OK! I don’t fucking know. and I already told you to back off a bit. you didn’t listen, why? why? can you tell me? is it because I asked for more time before we sleep together? is it because I am so fucking Klutz around you. why didn’t you listen dumb it!

you ruined it.

or maybe it was me again. I should probably just give up. adopt a  cat, or maybe twenty and named them after characters from Harry Potter. you don’t like the series, I guess that was suppose to be my first clue.

I am not fucked up. do you know how hurtful that was for me to hear? I know I am clueless when it comes to relationships. I know I have problem opening up. but I told you, do you have any idea how hard it was for me to tell you?

I don’t like it when people ask me what am I thinking or how am I feeling. that just makes me closed up even more! and I told you that when you just did not give up.

I said I am happy with the way things are going, why wasn’t it enough for you? you say you don’t know how to read me, that I am a closed book. but you are pressing the pages so hard the book is falling apart.

we had a good time tonight, laying in your bed. for the first time since I met you I thought to myself ‘hey. this might work’.

I do not need help ‘communicating with the world’.

I do not need ‘to work on myself’ ‘ to better myself’

and you don’t fucking know me enough to say that to me.

and now you lost your chance.


just enough

Did you ever felt so out of place

so wrong and fucked up

like everyone in the world are trying to change you

looking down on you

trying to make you feel so small

that is how I feel at my parent’s place. my mother, god I really hate her sometimes, she keeps telling people that I have no life. she always bags me about my hair or my shoes. I just will never be enough. I will never be me.

I hate living here. after three years outside I just had to come back. I hate it. and I hate how I don’t have any money to change things around, to move out.

what is so wrong about me reading a book instead of going out? wtching Sci-Fi instead of some shitty reality TV. what is so wrong about the fact that I have a ADHD semi-life, that I can’t really study for long hours- so I procrastinate  and gives up on doing things that might distract me- for studying. what is so wrong about my curly hair? it’s bushy and wierd red colored, what is so fucking wrong about that? what is wrong with the fact that I don’t want a boyfriend right now? I sorry dear mother but you make sure I will be so fucked up to be a part of a steady relationship.

I am 26 years old. I am writing the same post I wrote at 16. and sometimes I really think that it will always be the same.

I need to save up for a new place. but I am also so eager to travel, to be back on the road.

I am just to tired of this, all over again.

I know who I really am, and what do I want and sometimes I just want to scream it at loud. but also at times I just wish I could I have a normal, functional family. a little support from them, no judgement and no me hiding in my room like a teenager.




A letter to a bully

It annoys me how some people in our life could just hunt us, never going away, ghost from the past just lurking in the shaddows. whats aggravating me is that- they have no idea about their misdeed, no moments of recollection, no awareness of what they did. who made them so powerful? who gave them the means to cut and tear your life without any warning or sign?

I hate him. his laughter still rings in my ears. how dare he? casually sending me a message, asking me if I know who he is.

‘Yes’ I want to answer

‘You were the worst bully I ever had in high school, you put me in the spotlight – when all I wanted is to disappear. you made me cut friendships, you made all the shit I went through at home even worst. and with no real home, and no safe ground at school – where was I supposed to run?’

‘After each time I saw you and your little friends, I found myself crying in one of the bathrooms. everything was a joke to you isn’t it? throwing junk on me, pointing out all the things I hated about my body, still do on rainy days. and I was just so lost and unhappy all the time. you didn’t help much with that.’

Fuck it was ten years ago, why one message takes me back. I don’t want to be back there.


‘And you know whats hurt the most? you are not evil. you don’t really make the cut for a novel prize, but you just got carried away. you went with the flow, trying to impress the cool kids. and that is what gave you the title of the worst bully in my life – you knew whats it’s like to be different, and insecure. you just thought that by diminishing me farther – you will rise above’

‘I remember one geography class. we were in the 9th grade. the popular act was to steal my table every time I got out of the classroom. by the third time its happend that day- I was so close to tears. I just stood there, staring at the door planning my escape routh – when you just got up and gave me your table. what happend to that sweet boy? you were the only one who didn’t laugh at me.’

‘I know I was a loser back then, I was like the crazy girl from the breakfast club, everything at home was just so fucked up. and then school…I don’t blame you. You just went with the flow, and it was ten years ago. but the casual, flirty kind of message I just got – was really out of place. I moved on, well mostly. I know who I am now, I know who are my real friends and I can stand up to my parents. you are probably different now. unfortunately to me you will always be the kid that aim grapes at my breasts.’

sorry about the rant, I just needed to get this out.


Sometimes I really hate facebook.

I hate that window I have to other people’s life. I hate feeling like if I am “behind” others, Like I am not enough. I am completely aware that the problem is with me, with my perspective on the world. but still, I am behind.

You could always hear me claim that I don’t want a boyfriend. and I don’t! except I do. I always blow off dates or over analyze every man that approach me. and I am telling myself that i can’t have anyone controling me, I want to be on my own, I don’t need a guy to learn how to play guitar or to travel with me around the world- I don’t need a man.

but that does not mean I don’t want one.

I miss sex. I miss that feeling you get when you keep thinking about him, the way he hold your hand and that stupid smile you can’t shake. It’s like your life have a new meaning to it – and that is so terrifying!

I am a walking contradiction. I am against marriage, and yet I have my wedding planned out. I don’t do dating, but I do want a boyfriend.

I can not do this anymore. I can’t be this independant feminist woman and value myself according to my relationship status.

I am going away. taking a trip to italy- all by myself. the true is- I am scared. but I am also independant and a very strong young woman.

at least I want to be


I don’t know what is going on with me lately. well, I do- and I hate it so fucking much!

I miss the rush. the butterflies.

That special feeling when you wake up in the morning- and just smilie because you are going to see him today. and it does not matter that he is not yours, you are going to see him, speak with him, laugh with him.

Everything is at it’s place.

I don’t think that I miss him- the man I fell in love with, the one that I could not stop thinking about.I believe that I am just missing the idea of being in love. I miss the prospect of companionship, the idea that maybe I don’t have to do this alone anymore.

and I need sex. I never had a dry spell so long!!

I even had steamy fantasies about the librairian. and I hate that guy, he’s always threatening to kick me out when I snick in some soda. earlier today he came to my desk to annoy me once again, and suddenly all I could think about is him “punishing” me on one of the desks in the quiet rooms (who didn’t stay quiet for long). I was so mortified! I kept blushing and stuttering!

The sad part is that I can’t do hook-ups. I wish I could, really.

I don’t really know what I am doing. I don’t know what I want. and even if I did I am completely clueless when it comes to picking out men.

There is this  one friend from class who is really great. and I think I want him. but he is a good guy, I don’t want to play with him.


The golden bracelet

The first time my eyes notice it was when they opened her will. It was so beautiful. my uncle opened an envelope with my sister, brother and mine name writing on it. I bet it was written in the old typewriter machine. I didn’t notice. my eyes where locked on the gold bracelet.

And when I claimed it as my own, when I grabbed it from his hand- I just knew I will never part from it. I vagualy remembered the bracelet on her hand, the last time I saw her.

But I was a terrible granddaughter. never called, never visited. when people asked me if we were close- I never knew what to say. because she was my roll model. the woman I so admired, even if it was from a far far away. and what’s kills me is- She will never know. A writer, a single mother and a holocaust survivor. she was superwoman to me. we look a lot alike, but I will never be as free-spirited, level headed like her. I will probably never have the briliant adventures she had. an our last conversation, she told us a story, always laughing and smiling. my dad finished up with his crazy rules-breaking stories. and then she asked me- do you have a funny adventure to share?

And I had non.

Well, not a sober one anyway.

And it made me feel like a complete let-down. boring. a anti-social nerd. and most of the time that is really who I am. I am super shy, nobody notice me when there are other people around. I like to read, I can’t act for shit. and I always always follow the rules.

I am boring as hell.

So when I picked out that golden bracelet – I promised myself that I am going to make some drastic changes, I don’t really want to be myself anymore.

For the past year – I was moody and nervous. I barely went out. I was so self absurbed that I missed out on two (!) briliant man that were so nice and handsome.

I was a such a mess.

And I always always had my bracelet on.

A few weeks ago, someone told me that it was O.K to be the quiet one. I do not have to apologies for being so.. so.. me. I will probably never be an actor, or locally semi-famus like her. I will probably never be the loud one. or maybe I will be in certain situations. the thing is- I don’t need to be like her- for her to be proud of me. there I said it.
I need to be myself. with all the downsides I sometimes find. because lets face it- I am awsome. just the way I am. and someday the perfect man will notice this. someday.

I learned a lot about myself, this past year. I will take my adventures and break a few rules. but I will do it – on my terms, being completely and fully – myself.

So this is me. laying her bracelet in the drawer. no more guilt, no more self-doubt, no more diminishing myself.

I love you grandma.

Now it’s my turn.