Life is too short to drink crappy coffee and cry over boys who don’t care 

I’ve done both for a boy with long hair 

He looked like a cup of coffee with too much creamer 

But he wasn’t any sweater than a bitter pot of piss mixed with tap water 

I drank him up and ignored the taste 

It was one of my biggest fucking mistakes 

He wasn’t poison 

He didn’t kill me 

He just left a feeling so fucking unsettling 


The Book of Hoe: Last Halloween I danced with a weakness

Halloween night didn’t feel right for me, it was the first holiday to die due to a broken marriage and it was the first time I wasn’t with friends due to a broken friendship. Suddenly I was alone and the magic I usually felt on Halloween was busy accompanying someone more deserving, all I had was a boyfriend who didn’t want a whore even after I had disclosed I didn’t want to be like that anymore. His persistence pestered and I proved him right. I was a whore for attention, admiration, laced flirtations and Halloween was no exception. 

That’s how we began, two disrespectful fools drinking under the neon ghosts hanging from the ceiling, dancing along with our sins while the liquor convinced us it was guiltless. I was slipping under the sedation of a few jello shots with someone I had just met at my then boyfriends party. The Smiths were playing, we were the only ones dancing, and I was ignoring the stares from my boyfriend. I’m not sure what attracted me to him but I had developed a crush in minutes. I blame the instant attraction on his choice of costume. He was dressed as Vincent Vega from Pulp Fiction, I was the only one who had guessed correctly. The long hair and bolo tie combo had caught me off guard and suddenly I was fixated on knowing his name. I honestly gave him more attention than my boyfriend that night. I was trying to replace the loneliness with something far more soothing, a strangers grip on my swiveling hips and a glass of vodka to the lips. I swear we didn’t exchange more than a few words, but the lust was there and it was more than apparent because more than one friend wanted to step in and squash it.

Near the end of the night I was telling him how handsome he was with his long hair and his collared shirt, I had misplaced my cares along with my bunny ears. It was just dancing and innocent flirting, that’s all it is and that’s all it will be. My clouded mind didn’t believe the lie and neither did anyone else, and I made that clear  when I had given my number out. I handed the phone back extending my arm past my boyfriend with a smile and a promise. This isn’t the end and you’re not just a friend. He was the last to leave and I think he was waiting for me, but I was blacked out in a bedroom being groped by I don’t know who. 

That’s all I remember, I was a drunken girl flirting with the possible romance of someone new,  the next day I acted like I didn’t remember giving out my number but I was anxious for a call. Terrified of being mislead by a guy in a costume, was he really a babe or was he just a fantasy for me? Did I just want to live out my dream of being a pretty leading lady in a Quentin Tarantino movie ? I soon found out because my boyfriend had rightfully dumped me the same day my Vincent Vega called.We made a date as soon as we could for the following Monday at a club we both loved. He was a babe,the costume wasn’t a lie, he was as cool and charming as the character he portrayed and Halloween wasn’t the last time that I would pull him onto the dance floor.

We’ve seen each other a few times since then, almost recreating that night of reckless fun. Now its not as fun anymore, I receive a lot of calls and texts from him around 2AM, somewhere near last call when the strays are kicked out of the bars. I’m no fool and I’m aware that I’m being used. I want to be his whore, but I’m scared of the day when he doesn’t want me anymore.

It’s one year later, he just texted me an obscenity, I told him about a Halloween party; he’ll probably bail on me and I’ll pretend I don’t care.

Happy anniversary baby.



The Book Of Hoe: One year I spent my birthday with a stranger

I met him one random summer night, at that time last call had come and gone. Forced to walk my happy ass home. His words ran over to me as I was crossing the street, asking  if I needed a ride. I looked at him and thought “what a babe, it wouldn’t hurt to learn his name.” I had caught a buzz so I wasn’t afraid, either way I wasn’t living for my benefit anyway, that was when I remembered my mother and her cautious words slipped in between the lust and reckless thoughts. He was a risk with the devils grin, I turned him down, but I considered it.

Continuing my walk, I was being led by the warm air. Intoxicated  with the feeling of summer. A love affair fit for a drunk, my preoccupied mind so busy with the thoughts of a smitten teenager that I didn’t even notice when he pulled up next to me. His words weren’t aggressive, actually he was pretty welcoming. I went over to his window, leaned in and made sure to make eye contact. I wanted him to know that I was completely infatuated with the recklessness, he returned my gaze. My mothers warnings were silenced  when his green eyes met my brown eyes.

His name was Nondo, he was Greek and his body seemed to have been carved out of marble paired with a jawline that I had only seen in black and white movies. There I was, sitting in a strangers car and wondering if we would get very far. I asked if he was at the bar because I didn’t see him there, but honestly bars are dark for a reason, and I’m grateful for that. The darkness swallows up the faces and the ugly and I was sure a guy like that would stand out because drunk or sober he would always be pretty. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t there. He was doing I forget what and I forget where.

I don’t remember how but suddenly I was being let out into my drive way. I left him with a promise “if you stalk me then I welcome the company.” I had never been scolded by anyone about my choices, my friends would eat up my tales with a laugh and a head shake. My family didn’t expect any less from me, so it was a surprise to hear “Are you that careless to get into a strangers car? If you ever do it again, I’ll chop your body into multiple pieces and mail them to your mother.” I let him know to make sure and attach a card.

One year I spent my birthday with a stranger, I made sure not to tell him. but Jameson and Jack forced my hand, and I mentioned it. This Greek didn’t want to drink, he didn’t want to dance, and he didn’t want to get in my pants. I felt myself break into 22 different pieces. I was flooded with all of my anxieties, the thoughts I had suppressed with a summer of alcohol and sex finally caught up with me. I wasn’t in love anymore, summer had gone and fall has begun. I went crazy, why doesn’t he want me, Why do I need that sense of security, What is he doing with me if he doesn’t want to fuck me? I hate my birthday.


Its no fucking secret that I’m an emotional mess. My disorder has never been so prominent than it has in the last year and a half, and because of my actions I’v lost most of my mind and all of my friends. I’ve gained  stories, experiences, heartache, creativity, and about 15 pounds. I’ve always said, I love heartache because I get super creative, super thin, and super reckless. I love it. But now I know that that was just my mania, a breakup made me venture out of reality, forget my responsibility, and just not give a fuck about anything. Everything was raw and real. I feel most alive when I feel like shit, adventurous shit.

 Although what I’ve gained doesn’t really balance out the losses, I’m grateful that most days I believe in new beginnings . I struggle with motivation every day, its very hard for me to give a shit about what I look like. I often feel as though their isn’t a point to most aspects in my life, I go back and forth between feeling like I’m capable of great things and I need to start now, I have this crazy sense of FOMO, like time is just teasing the shit out of me and I’ll never catch up. The other thing is feeling like everything I do is complete crap and isn’t worthy of anyone’s gaze so why waste everyone’s time? Alot of times I feel like an untalented girl with an artists temperament. Tantrums included. I constantly judge my artwork before I even put anything on the page. I literally look at a blank page of endless possibilities and say “this is gonna be complete garbage”. I dabble in everything that interests me, just enough to see if I can do it but not enough to gain any actual skill from it…and definitely before I can fail at it.

 Controlling my mood is going to be good for me but I cant help but mourn the loss of my mania. High as hell on life and sleep deprivation, mix in some alcohol and I have a cocktail of equal parts tears and laughter with a cigarette butt garnish. I’ve began taking serolequel at a really low dose, but the effects were there from the jump. It had knocked me out like a tranquilizer, my dreams were vivid and so entertaining, I was ridiculously groggy and unfocused the next day. I had slept so much, like maybe 20 hours of sleep. Going to work was a really bad idea and I had a complete breakdown, I think just stress and the pill had made my emotions much more exposed. I was crying alot and had left work early to just wander the streets, a passing car threw something at my feet which made me just lose it, ended up on a curb of a busy street trying to get the courage to walk into traffic. My mom found me an hour later, half asleep and sobbing.

I got less groggy on the fourth day but my mom was still frustrated with me and said a lot of hurtful things that I’ll never shake. She has apologized, but the thing with my brain is that it locks down on  hurtful things said to me. I tell myself I ruin everything, I’m a burden, I’m worthless daily. When someone I trust and love says to me exactly what my brain tells me, everything is just emphasized. Proving my horrible brain right.  As soon as someones hurtful thought becomes real and exposed, its permanent for me, and my brain will always have that ammo against me. As a kid I’ve always identified as an accident and a mistake, I figured I felt like I’ll never belong because I was never supposed to be here. Then I got older and I held on to the idea of being accidentally reincarnated, someone in the underworld just let me slip back in and probably got fired or transferred to another department. I don’t know why I always feel out of place or if I’ll stop feeling that way.

Now I’m at work and its day number 5, still a little hard focusing and I have a light headed sensation, but I think thats due to taking the pill on a full stomach and not getting the knock out sleep I usually get. I made a little more effort in appearance than usual, so I’m glad about that. Other than that I’m not feeling much, mostly sleepy. I just want to go home and get in bed…but I know I should go to the gym or paint or draw or write or clean or play with my cat. but as of 5.45 PM I have no energy for any of that.