Monday, November 16, 2015


Note: I stumbled across the term anti-twink from Hetero-Challenged's blogpost.

Anti-twinks thrive on being wanted and desired, yet they also seek a man too good for them and that often entails someone who does not show their desire or want them in return. Anti-twinks are the gay boys who never learned to love themselves and thus feel a compelling need to fit the most desired stereotyped portrayed by mainstream media. Of course they're anti-twink, they want to be the only twink in town. That way they can be the most desired. They act like bitches because that's the only way they can hide their submissive side while also showing their vulnerability (or, feminine side) in their forever quest for the almost-impossible-man (AIM).

A man who encompasses all attributes of the AIM is a rarity. As hard as the anti-twink works to be the ideal anti-twink, the impossible man has to naturally fit into his stereotype (as defined by the anti-twink) with as little effort as possible. They are negatively correlated and both approach an asymptote, always nearing but never touching zero. For this reason, the more of an anti-twink the twink is, the harder it is to find his almost-impossible-man.

Finally, there is the anti-twink at the the topmost of the anti-twink pyramid, attitudes and beliefs and behaviours fully attuned to being the utmost anti-twink he can be. The AIM becomes the impossible man, and is impossible not because he doesn't exist, but because the most desirable of his attributes - unattainableness - ceases to be the moment he is attainable. For these anti-twinks, they must first focus on getting over themselves, or face the possibility of being alone forever.

What a fucking loser. LOL

Saturday, November 14, 2015


Blame is a dangerous thing. It can be a verb, a noun, and a drug. You can direct, shift, or even suppress it. It can be projected both inwards and out. Most of all, it'll always seems harmless enough until it summons a tragedy bigger than itself.

Blame can blind you with emotion. It can propel you with the force of an erupting volcano, or shatter you internally like two conflicting twisters. It can overwhelm you, get you to forget to breath and leave you gasping for air.

Blame can become a habit. You who is a master escape artist will one day run out of options and in a clutch, ride the train that is blame. In your pursuit of freedom you cling on to blame and suddenly you are one stop too late, one time too many, too far from home.

Perhaps one day you will let go of the blame. And like all addictions, the only constant you can expect with withdrawal is regret.

I'm sorry, T.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Alone Again

"A lot has happened.

Somehow I am all by my lonesome, again.

I could ponder on about the million and one things I could've possibly done differently, so you would've done differently, so we would've done differently. I could contemplate and rationalise the pain I felt or inflicted on you so many times over that I couldn't feel it anymore. I could agonise over the way we ended things, the last time I ever saw your face, or kissed your cheeks, or felt the warmth of your tongue swirling like crashing waves, leaving behind a ripple that resonates deep into the very numbness of my soul.

I could think about you positively. When one is self-destructive, to think of another positively is to think of the other as doing it for reasons besides spite. I heard the jarring clatter of your heart being wrenched open, and the frantic pitter-patter of you keeping it all together. I saw the reluctance and pain and sorrow and tragedy and misery and agony in that kiss I had no idea was our kiss goodbye. I know you wished me well.

I could think of you positively.

I could imagine you in my mind, in our room, slowly but surely prepping yourself for the monumental task to come. I saw you organise our things, our life, into boxes and up onto the few shelves you could still spare me in your heart. The others went out down the garbage chute as you forcefully embraced freedom from the chains that chain, the bonds that bond, and the ties that bind.

I have an addictive personality.

Dissociation is addictive. Loneliness is addictive. Pain is addictive. Melancholy is addictive.

But so is freedom.

And if there's anything I hope you'd know it would be this:

I wish you nothing but the best,"

he said as he clicked in confirmation.


Saturday, April 4, 2015


I stayed through his suicides, through wrestling off the balcony, through him swinging knives. He couldn’t handle me being away for…. Half a year.

Then I realised, he loved me because he needed me.

I just..

.. loved him.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Letting Go

I dreamt of you yesterday.

It was dark in our apartment. I was groggy and barely awake. I felt empty and alone. So I searched for you. Perhaps you fell asleep outside studying.

Then I found you and a sense of comfort washed over me. I walked closer and was ready to dive into your arms, this longing in my heart to hug you and lie on your solid chest and in your strong arms' embrace was so overpowering and then I stopped.

This isn't our apartment. You aren't mine anymore. I'm not your baby now. You got over me while I was away.

I was filled with dread and emptiness, and you were still sound asleep. Part of me wanted to just interact with you, hear your voice or touch you, even if you weren't real. But I couldn't. I ran back into our room. And realised that this wasn't our room. This isn't my bed. This aren't the pillows, the sheets, the blankets I left you. Where is Bommie, our penguin? Where is my fucking bolster? Who the fuck is this in the bed?????????

I woke up crying. But life goes on.

This is why I'm heading to Gold Coast before Melbourne. I'm finally better, but I can't. I can't go back to that city of dreams without any sense of familiarity. You've practically kicked me out of my apartment. You're bringing boys into the home I brought you into. And you've left me after forcing me to grow so attached to you.

I was never the sticky kind.

Why did you mould me into that just to break your promises and leave me overnight.

p/s: so yes, my last-new relationship of about one and a half years is over. come date me now. you better not be a bottom. lol