A letter from the girl down the street

You always wrapped yourself up in fairy tales, in stories of extravagant and vibrant love. It was the hope you fell in love with. In your dreamland, you were the girl who went unnoticed, who was transparent. For all the times you felt neglected, you marked you heartbreak with tallies on your arm, hoping that one day, someone would notice you, and when they did, all the times you felt defeated by love, it would magically wash away.

You pranced in the walls of your heartbreak, convincing yourself that one day love will visit you on a breezy anticipated the day your prince will wake you from your eternal slumber and take you away to never-land. That maybe he’ll pass like the wind, and patch up your heartbreaks, claim them as his own.

At first you thought that it could’ve been the boy in eighth grade who would look at you a little more graciously than others. Or maybe the boy you’d catch a bus with and the way you seemed to feel a little more understood in this world of feeling misunderstood. But the boy in the eighth grade looked at you smiling, as he ran the field chasing the new girl, and the boy on the bus, confided in you about love growing in his heart again, protesting that he found something worthwhile, just not in you.

You still remember it now. The tears shed at the corner of your bed, and your sole dependence on these tales thinking that singing to the stars would hopefully find its way to someone, alleviate the heaviness on your heart.

That someone or something would save you.

The dare to believe was ingrained within you. It burned within you. If Prince Charming was real, he has to be out there, he has to save you from this unfairness. When would he come? He needed to come.

But you slowly began to resent love. All of the flowers that grew in your heart, began to shrivel. Your castle began to wither, and you closed your doors; and for every broken piece of your heart that remained unseen, piled on old shelves, you hung it up like a million chandeliers in your castle, hoping that you’ll be able make your pain beautiful, convincing. You slowly started to become one with your home, your justifications, the creeping plants wrapping itself around your feet, softly but unknowingly. It was beautiful there. You could scream and hear the echoes of the words a thousand times, when you would try and justify why you never succeeded at love. You wrote songs, in hopes to soften the pain inflicted by each heartbreak, and like a choir, sung your anthems into the night. You fell in love with your pain, locking yourself away in your perfect utopia, writing a list of everyones wrongdoings besides your own, because you knew that no one could hurt you here, not even you.

And just like that, you locked yourself in a prison.

Every now and then, you’d pull back the moss covering the window panes, you once waited so patiently on, wondering if there was hope beyond the horizon. But, you soon became familiar with the way the branches travelled throughout the castle, pulled you out of the light, coveting you, convincing you that it’s much safer here, in the arms of all that you knew…yourself.

So, right when you thought you were going to disappear, when you decided to close your gates forever, become comfortable in your dreamland, in your convictions, your coping mechanism,

you saw him…

dancing bravely with all that he ever knew, himself.

When you caught sight of him, you thought, could he be this god sent angel here to mend your broken bones, take you away from your despair. Although you vowed to never place yourself in the sight of love ever again, to never feel love, you ran for the gates. Had love finally visited your doorstep? Wait, but what if he’ll hurt you like the others? What if you’ll hurt him? What if I’m alright right here?

Promising to never hurt you the way the ones before did, you succumbed to the comfort of your old friends, anxieties.  You convinced yourself that fairy tales are for the reckless, choosing to dance alone in your palace, once again. You choose to let love sit idle, grow stale in an old jar, never allowing yourself to be swept. You let him marvel at your soul as you did to his. After all, you’d rather dance all alone, then ever dance with someone, only to realise that that’s all your cold heart has truly ever wanted.

There he stands outside your walls. Isn’t this what you wanted, didn’t you want to be loved? He’s here, but why can’t you let him in?

As you meet yourself in this castle, one where your pain is covered in shiny trinkets and get quick denial schemes, you realise that this isn’t beautiful but lonely. That the problem was never that you didn’t love, but that when it came to it, you couldn’t rid yourself of your armour and face love. That this is a liars kingdom, and that even though all you have ever wanted has arrived, you can’t face it because these walls are you, and that even the bravest of Prince Charming can never save you from yourself. That you don’t prepare for love, establish an army to save you from the fall.

So as you hear the screams of yourself wallow through the walls of your castle, pleading to remain unchanged, and promising to keep you safe and warm, you decide to tear down the vines and open your windows.  You dance, but now with a desolate knowingness, that no longer are you the girl who vowed to never love again.  You begin to tear down the chandeliers you’ve worked so hard to display, to make seem more beautiful than they actually were. As they all shatter before you, you are visited with a newfound grace that the only thing that was stopping you from really feeling love, was yourself.

As you blast the doors open, you feel the sun rays visit your face, and for once you’re comforted by its warmth. As you begin to stare into this abyss known as his eyes, you feel the branches that have kept you secluded, begin to untangle, and like a string of lights fluttering, you ignite. It’s not because he has come to save you, promise to never break your heart, but because years of locking your heart, in a corner, didn’t save you from pain, from the treachery of a broken heart. That being fearless is so much braver than being afraid of being hurt. That being vulnerable is so much more forgiving than being cold.

You realise now that love isn’t this thing that saves you, or promises to make everything better.

So for the girl who cried the whole way home, who wished so desperately to be seen, I’m sorry. But, don’t be afraid of love, nor romanticise your heart break, or pledge to lock the last remaining strand of love away, so that no one would do to you what you’ve seen happen to all of those once vibrant souls. Don’t create a prison masquerading as your home, or dance with the voices that encourage you to never open yourself up again.

For if you don’t dare to love despite falling, and falling brutally by this wondrous Prince Charming perhaps; the regret you’ll feel will be torturous more than the pain caused by living love.

So to the boy down the street, thank you for visiting me in a far off daydream, for being this enchanting figure to me, and helping me realise that no amount of wishing will take away the pain caused by the ones in your past. But even more, that no amount of locking yourself away, will save you from pain you’ll possibly face.

It is because of you, I’m slowly beginning to understand that maybe it’s not about being saved after all. Maybe it’s not about wearing the most safest armour in order to prevent being hurt, because in the end, you’ll hurt, trying to lie to yourself. Maybe it’s about meeting the sun, meeting love as naked as ever, and putting everything on the line, even if it consumes you.

Note: This is partially fictional. It was inspired by a voice over in a show I had watched, and the allusions to fairy tales which I basically fell in love with. I hope you like it 🙂

sorry for ghosting you, my online friends.

Usually I’d write to you five pages of how my year had played out and then I’d get all sentimental about all of the moments that I’ll never manage to get back. But, for once things were a little bit in the moment, rather than reflecting on the moment.

So, I’m sorry for ghosting you, for leaving pieces of this story left untold, not that it means anything really. I’m sorry for continuing to lose sight of what I find refuge in, and completely vanishing off the face of the earth, with no explanation just to return a few months later, a little more sorry than the last. I can’t guarantee you anything because after all, I’m all of what it means to be lost, trying to feel found, so I’ll stumble and I’ll fall. That’s me. I can only promise to try a little more…

But, I’m not sorry for the fact that I felt oddly free in my absence. In a short amount of time, I wasn’t observing for once, but actually experiencing, without the need to try and understand it.

I mean I went to my first concert, and if I could only describe how it felt to have sound pulse through you, I’d never stop. But I just stood there, puppy eyed, feeling so much. I also became friends with the night, roaming the city with another lonesome soul. And I mean, for once I didn’t write my five page letter every 31st December to commemorate the highlights of the year, of how much I’ll miss it, and how it has taught me more than the last. I went out to the beach, drunk, and cried because the stars looked so pretty for the first time in my life.

It’s funny, because my mum often says I cried because I was drunk and was just sensitive, but in all honesty, I was so fully aware of the moment, being drunk was just an excuse. I would’ve cried sober, but they wouldn’t know that, they don’t know that.

I stayed up all night, sitting on a park bench with a boy, on numerous occasions talking about everything we could possibly cover if we were ever asked. I lived, without having to think about consequences, or repercussions. We were just two peas in a pod, not asking for much.

I literally was falling in love with moments, as they were happening, not being fearful or nostalgic of it ending, but just letting go completely, and allowing myself to feel.

I’ve learnt a lot about what I’ve needed during this small, but vital change in my life. I stepped out of my comfort zone and it was exhilarating but also very telling. It’s revealed a lot of what I’ve chosen to hide over time, and what I’ve secretly wanted, so I’m thankful for the turn of events these last few months. I really am.

I’ve had the time of my life, taking it all in. It’s been just beautiful, if you’d ask me.

So, I’m sorry for losing sight, but I’m also thankful for losing sight, if you know what I mean.

I’ll see you when I see you…


Bye old me, I’ll miss you a lot.

I was browsing the web today, and once again I fell into a hole where I envied everyone who seemed to know themselves. I don’t have great fashion taste, as a matter of a fact, I don’t think I have fashion taste at all. I’m one of those self conscious roamers who don’t entirely know their place in this world if I could say honestly. It did inspire me to reach into myself and see how fashion could best reflect me though.

After envying everyone, I watched some quotes compilations on Youtube, in order to help reach into the feelings I was going through. I never expected it, but I read this quote which says, “Want to know what people are afraid to lose, look into what they photograph”. This quote caused a flashback when I was in my final year of high school last year, and I explored the theme of adolescence for my art folio. I’ve always been so astounded by the motions of youth, the reckless ease, the obliviousness yet the urge to explore. It’s incongruent. I’ve captured youth, written about youth whilst I had still been able to feel it. I guess I realised that I wanted to capture it so much before I’d ever have to face losing it. Some part of me was aware that it only lasted temporarily, so I documented everything associated with it.

Over the past two days, I’ve been missing school, missing the reckless days where I thought life was hard and never understood me. Life isn’t hard now, but it’s harder. High school gave me the perfect excuse to be hopelessly in love, to pour my heart out into books, and fantasise about fictional characters, delve into essays and books, create life out of every moment. High school was the excuse to be young and free, happy and sad, a dichotomy of feeling, whether it is confinement and emancipation. I look at the boy I once loved, how he is and I realise I’d never be able to like someone like that ever again. It was only precious and enchanting because it was innocent. Life for me in high school was completely innocent, protecting me from the reality. I could capture him in all of his entirety, talk to the moon late at night and sing songs about him, but now there is a veil that blocks the person who I used to be, versus the person I am now becoming.

You see, whilst I was behind the veil, I desperately wanted to be free of it, yet now I am free of it, I wish I cherished the time I experienced in it a bit more.

There is this thing called responsibility now that covets the innocence that had once existed. I’m still getting used to it, and I will eventually get used to it.

It was just nice honestly. To once be able to feel. And feel completely.

Have you vanished off the face of the earth yet?

Ever since finishing school, I have vanished off the face off the earth. No longer am I talking to the people that I used to talk to, or am chatting with people regarding homework. It’s funny. The people you thought would be there, travel alongside you in the treachery of the adult world, aren’t with you anymore.

I specifically had a friend where we walked home together, talked about our dreams, and would always get excited at the possibility of achieving greatness in our lives after finishing school. To be honest, I thought he would be there, but now it seems like you have to fight to keep in touch with the people you thought would always be there in the first place.

Maybe it was me. Maybe I didn’t push hard enough, ask to see him on the weekends or to go out every now and then to retain our friendship. But maybe, I shouldn’t have had to try so hard, have had to chase after a friendship that could have most likely worked, just so that it could work. I don’t blame him now that I come to think about it. People are young, reckless. We are all puzzle pieces in attempt to fit, so I accept that what was, once was. I hope he does well in his future. Finds new friends, grows into the person he is meant to become, and achieve all of those dreams we spent so long talking about, whilst walking together every afternoon on the way home.

So many friends have left me, all of which I don’t mind. I have vanished off the face of the earth. Sometimes I like it because I can feel okay in my skin. I can look at my life and not compare it so recklessly to others.

Sometimes though, I look at the people I have grown up around splurge into this big vast world, so daring, so head on, so happy. Yet, I feel left behind, as if my life is a bit too monotonous in comparison to everyones great achievements. Everyone is going off into university, getting into their dream courses, somehow having the world at her feet. I haven’t achieved much. My life isn’t as daring as others.

I watched a video about John Green and he pointed out that just because someone chooses to live a quiet life  doesn’t make it any less meaningful than someone who flourishes on their Instagram profile. A daring life isn’t being remarkably adventurous, it’s within the act of being daring.

This piece of advice somehow seemed to comfort me. It gave me a sense of peace that my life wasn’t daring or any less meaningful, just because it is moving at a different pace at others. I felt that as I mopped floors at work or looking up at the purple lightning in the sky, my life was just as daring, just as meaningful.

That was the greatest feeling in the world.



I swear I saw him in the stars tonight…

Love is a complex thing isn’t it. You’re not bound to it, your challenged by it. A few days ago, I thought about love and how I felt bound to it, how I naturally have the disposition to be bound to love. In that initial thought, came all of the ones my little heart has loved before. For 2 years my heart was preoccupied, holding onto a slight probability that one boy would notice me sooner or later back when I was 13. I eventually learned through years that I invested time on a possibility, put myself under so much heartbreak because I swore I was bound to love.

I guess in the moment, you feel that love is this spiritual entity that governs this perfect narrative, when in reality it isn’t the case. Love has to be mutual. For 2 years unrequited love touched me because I never loved myself to realise I deserved someone who had noticed me in the first place. Unrequited love isn’t pretty, it’s emotional masochism.

I have for numerous years been on the outsiders perspective when it came to love. I always cried myself to sleep, talked to the moon, hoping there was someone talking back on the other side. I always thought that I wasn’t pretty, or was the oddball. I probably was. Still am. These heartbreaks never really healed, because I didn’t understand the semantics of it entirely. I never understood that I needed to see myself as worthy of love. Owning it. In my previous years, I’d bow down to it, believing that it chose me, and that all these times I’d cry, I must not be ready for love.

Late last year, I felt love and to say honestly, it was the most remarkable thing that ever has touched me. It was more than me. Anyway, just like usual I saw him fall out and into love again. I really don’t want you to get the wrong idea about him. The feelings that came along with him were more than what both him and I could comprehend. Anyway, I finished school, accepted the fact I’d never see him again, and attempted to move on with my life. At first I did (move on I mean), but every time I would see him occasionally, everything would reignite. Then I would look at the stars and ask God, what I did I do to ever deserve this? Until a couple of days ago, I never realised what I was continuing to do to myself. I wrote in my diary complaining that I just cannot quit him. I didn’t feel jealous of whoever he was going to love, for I would love them because he loved them. But I just wouldn’t be able to quit him. Now I realise that love hasn’t bound me to this one person. Fates change, people change, destinies change. I cannot do what I did when I was younger, give my heart wholly for someone for 2 years. Where do I save room for myself? I have nearly beaten myself up, never chose to love myself enough because I thought I was never capable of love…

Up until a couple of days ago, I was going to continue to do just that. But then I realised – to what extent will I love him before I stop loving myself. Unrequited love isn’t romantic or something that fills your youth. It’s emotionally masochistic. I loved him, I’d gladly love him again, but I can love myself, I can rid myself of the heartbreak of seeing him fall in and out of love again. I don’t need to see that.

So I’m here drawing the line, saying that I’d gladly love him again, but I’m not going to hurt myself in the process. Enough of that.

See you later.

What am I if everyone else is something great?

I have always compared myself to others. Furthermore, I have always beaten myself up for the way I am. I know, it seems rather ungrateful when I can’t see the beauty in my own life. The privilege I have in comparison to others who might be actually suffering. Which is why I try and snap out of it as soon as possible.

To put it as clearly as I can, I look at other people’s lives and wonder why they have everything figured out, why they can count their dreams like 1, 2, 3, yet I have no idea. My life isn’t harder or easier, but it feels to me like it’s hazed. I have heard of all of my counterparts from school achieve scholarships, their dream courses, start their first year of university and their new chapter. My new chapter in comparison to theirs is much more monotonous. Yes, there are pros and there are cons to my situations, just as there are to theirs. Some part of me just feels like it is missing out on this universal blueprint to be happy, that everyone seems to follow. I guess university and the conventional way of living, is more of a guarantee, whereas any other way of living, is looked down upon, uncertain. At least that is what I have always thought.

I don’t know, world. I don’t know anything. I don’t urge to know, but why does everyone else know? I have a part time job, have the tiniest amount of responsibilities my mum will give me (thank you), but I don’t know.


Locke Dor

Helplessness – the worst emotion to feel…

I’ve been helpless often throughout my life. I know to some degree you have also, which is why we meet on this post…

I’ve just finished high school, and I have felt a big sense of accomplishment. But right now, I see people around me, and I feel helpless. People are moving, growing, whilst I feel stagnant here. I know that patience is always the best policy, and that working on this blog, establishing Locke Dor and other ideas is a great mindset to be in. Not much people think like that. But sometimes, I compare my happiness or success to my counterparts. They are driving, going to hotels in celebration of their graduation, going out on dates (as friends) and living a wondrous lifestyle. But, I’m here in my room, working on this secret life known as this blog, which I feel, brings me tremendous happiness, yet at the same time, makes me feel inadequate because everyone seems to be on top of themselves. Whereas I am here on a blog, writing about my life…

Helplessness is the worst thing to feel. It’s in between having a choice and not having a choice – feeling like you have no choice.

Obviously I snap out of this helplessness I feel, because somewhere, I know I am exploring myself, which a lot of young people cannot do. They’d rather go out with friends, grow up way beyond their age and seek their independence. I’m okay here… I may seem like the most helplessness person, which I probably am.

But there’s a reverence in all of this, which I cannot seem to explain. Maybe I won’t have my own car or the latest phone anytime soon, but I have enough faith in God and this path, that everything will figure itself out – that i’ll be rewarded and that it will be given to me rather than me chasing it.

And somehow that is everything…

A perfect day for writing – understanding heartbreak

The weather today was honestly wonderful. It wasn’t humid, as usual, but had a crisp air that came along with it. It was enchanting honestly. It kind of made me think about life and how each life is so different and unique. The life I have lived is so different to the lives other’s have lived. But one thing I have learnt, is that we have all been heartbroken before in our lives. Sometimes by people we expected, sometimes by people we would never dare to expect. I just find is amazing, how everyone is bound to get their own share of it all. It’s like no one can hide away from it. No matter how hard they try.

I know I’ve gotten my share of it all. As much as I’d hate to admit, it has become a part of who I am. I think that once it hits you, it never really disappears. It becomes the memory you look back on when you face problems in your life. It becomes this stitch that heals, but always remains. Like a scar.

I guess the point of today’s post, is that I feel like heartbreak is something that will end up becoming a part of someones life sooner or later. It demands to be felt. I guess that’s what makes us human. Our ability to be broken completely, yet pick up our pieces and give to the world, what we wish was given to us. It’s quite enchanting if you think about it. How capable of good we can achieve no matter how much bad things we’ve experienced…


You are in love…

Today has been rather simplistic. But there was a thing I found crazy remarkable today. And that was love and emotions. Specifically how we choose to portray these emotions. I feel as if love, as cringe as it sounds, will always be universally appealing to everyone. It is something that demands to be felt.

Today I felt that. I felt love touch me. It wasn’t extravagant, but looking at his eyes was something else. The truth was, I had never met him before. I’m not usually one to believe in love at first sight. No, I’m not saying that for maybe this one time will make me believe in it. I’ll never fully believe i it. I know I don’t love him. I just felt that for once, he saw me as me, and I saw him as him. I guess that’s what was remarkable about it. We have never seen each other before and in all honesty, probably never se each other again. But there was this rawness, at least coming from me. When I encountered that moment, I was completely oblivious to what was happening to me. There was no time to be awkward and break eye contact. There was no time to ever complicate love or whatever it was. It was just two people under an outside light, sharing a brief encounter. Love or whatever it was, it was simply a nice encounter. Nothing more or less. All the words my mouth seem to mutter is that it was fascinating to meet him. Unexpected as it was, it was a nice experience. I know I’ll never see him again. But I am okay with that.