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.





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.

the introvert teacher

I am not passive, I am not bored and it is not like I don’t care.
A person could be introvert and still be passionate about things. I could be shy and insecure sometimes but it doesn’t mean I just don’t care about people, about my students and It does not mean I am going to be a terrible teacher.
but everyone (except my counselor- and that is her job) tells me I am not cut out for this.
and who the fuck they think they are??
sure, it will be harder for me at first- it always is. I need more time then others to feel like I am doing ok. but that doesn’t mean that I should think about changing my path.
I hate making life-choices, I hate not knowing what will happen next. I hate it when everyone keeps telling me I am no good
I hate that sometimes I am chanting that to myself.