Slow dancing in a burning room.

I am a wrecker of all things
I am a wrecker of all good things.
I am a cynic
I am a masochist
I crave for beauty,
and a love that I cannot keep.
I crave for sanity, 
by doing insane things
I abuse and shame people like them,
for they are all hypocrites.
I pain, and writhe in agony and sadness
for you seem to think
I’m just like them.
Evil, manipulative
selfish and cunning.
cold and ignorant.
Maybe I am
Maybe that’s who I’ve become
after I met them.
After I kissed their lips and tasted their wine. 
I wasn’t always the person you seem to hate now.
I was much more.
A better, easy to love person.
A person, who you would have most certainly 
and most definitely loved,
and never would let go. 
I’d do anything to show you that person. 
Yours truly,
Painted Shadow

You, I’d never regret.

Its how you love my curly messy hair. Its how you love the fat gathered on my hips. its how you make me feel desirable with them,  almost sexy.

Its how you complimented my eyes. No one has ever done that before. It was new and different. Its how you did so much and turned my entire life around without doing much. Its how I listened to you. Its how i can never seem to be mad at you or hate you for more than 5 minutes. Its how I can control my stubbornness around you or not even be stubborn around you. its the words you say and the way you say them.

It’s how you make me feel things I thought I’d never feel again. You didn’t push. or shove. You simply stood in front of the door and waited. Waited through the rain storms and the blizzards. You waited.

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

This moment will be another story.

There’s nothing that can touch us anymore. There’s no one to tell us right from wrong. We’re alone out here. You and me. We’re alone but still together somehow. Maybe one day in the future, all of this will make sense. Looking back, all the pieces of this puzzle will fit. But now, all the pieces seem broken and bent. Now, all we’re desperately trying to do is finish the puzzle. We tend to forget that fixing a 10 piece puzzle is much easier than fixing a 2000 piece puzzle. which has the bigger picture? which has the more worthwhile picture? the one you want to frame?  That’s our lives. That’s what we choose at the end of it all. The big picture. So maybe tomorrow, things will change. Maybe tomorrow, I wont feel this way about you anymore, or you wont be there for me like you said you will. And I’ll be okay with that. I’ve been used to that, cause in the end we’re always alone with our hearts thumping hard against our chest. But that won’t stop us from living, or breathing or loving. That just makes us whole.

Maybe I want to start jumping again instead of tip-toe-ing. Maybe I want to jump over the boundaries and borders and tell you what you mean to me. Or at least how much you’ve turned my life around. Or maybe this is all there is to us. Just two people in a crowd getting by, trying to not get trampled on. But we’re whole, cause I know me and you know you. And that’s what matters, knowing who we are.

We’re whole. We’re infinite.

and real.

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow.

Is it really just another crush?

Do you remember your first crush?  You were so nervous to tell that person. You would be nervous and not know what to say because that person would always leave you so breathless. When you’re a teen and you want to tell your crush you like him, there are so many ways you plan on telling him. writing a note, passing not so subtle hints, etc. You’d just find all the courage in the world and tell them. because you were naive and innocent and pure. You didn’t know of heartbreak. you didn’t know of rejection or disappointment. You just knew that everything will be fine. You were optimistic. You lacked knowledge and experience. You were growing.

Fast forward a couple of years. You’re legally an adult now.  And before you realize you find yourself crushing on someone. Everything feels almost the same, except that it happened almost a century ago. When did it become so hard? There’s a reason we continue with our education. So that we’ll have an endless list of vocabulary and 50 million ways to express our emotions. But its like the more we learn and the older we grow, we cant seem to find words to say to people. You’re no longer a teen, and you’re not as naive as you were. Your past; all the charms and frogs made you dark and cold. Your heart was broken, you broke hearts. You rejected. You disappointed. And had the same thing done to you over and over again. And you survived. Barely though. Barely enough to pick up the pieces and stagger along.

But you grew up. You changed. You weren’t innocent anymore. And you desperately tried to not get hurt again and again.

So when did it become so hard to tell someone how you felt about them? When did it become so hard to dive head first? When did you become scared of your own words and feelings that you decide to hide them away long enough so they wouldn’t exist? or long enough to convince yourself that they don’t exist?

It’s not healthy. It’s not practical either. It just makes you cold and withdrawn.


Yours truly,

Painted Shadow.

Nobody wins from this misery.

We open up to people for one main reason. We open up to someone just so there would be someone who would know the crap you’re going through. we open up to that someone, with the blindest yet strongest hope that they wont leave us. That they’ll stay with us for one day longer. So we tell them things and hope that they’ll be the ones who actually stick around.

I tried being stronger. Tried being absolutely bulletproof. Tried to be everything I told myself I would be. But sometimes it’s just too hard and all you end up doing is the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do. And that’s crumble and sit in a corner and feel like you’re completely alone in this world. I want to stop feeling like this. Helpless and hidden in the depths of my cave.

I want you to stay. I want you to stay cause you’re probably the only one I trust in this place. I need you to stay, for my own selfish reasons.


(This feels incomplete.)


Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

Foundation for concrete walls.

It’s that feeling you get. that feeling that you’re completely alone despite what anyone says. It’s that feeling that you’ll always be with yourself. And that everyone is temporary, despite them convincing you otherwise. It’s like being in a crowded room, a sea full of people and everyone talks to you, but you know there’s a part of you that can’t be filled.  That this little void will always remain what it is void and empty. It’s not that they don’t care. They do care. some of them at least  but no matter what, that emptiness still lingers. And you’re not sure what to do, except feel that way. And drunken nights with a stranger just wont help you anymore. Because those drunken nights only remind you of what’s missing. They leave a bigger emptier deeper hole. And at the end of it all, you feel like crap.

I can’t make you make me love me, if you don’t.  I feel alone. Completely and insignificantly alone. Unbearably and selfishly alone. and scared. and in desperate need of help but too fucking proud to admit it. I’m weak and disoriented. I’m an emotional wreck, he said.


Yours truly,

Painted Shadow.

Someone like you.

…and in that same instant I wasn’t his anymore.

He seemed to be busy scribbling something down on a white paper napkin that day at breakfast. I watched his eyes as they shifted nervously. I watched how his pen lingered longer than was required on a word. I couldn’t see that he was writing though. He covered it with his hand, like one of those kids in school who hated people cheating off them. He was like that. He looked up at me with a broken smile, which quickly disappeared. And he sighed. He breathed out a long deep sigh and blinked at me before showing me the paper. I tried to read him, read his eyes before I could face what was written down. A million things had formed in my head. Ideas pushing over other ideas. But it looked like he already knew the answer or my reaction. I looked down at the soft tissue now in my hands. I looked at it and looked up at him again, his gaze had never left my face. So I looked back down. He had scribbled ” would you still feel the same way about me tomorrow? ”. I swallowed.  I knew he knew the answer. I knew he knew me too well. yet I don’t know why he’s still seated in front of me asking this question. I wasn’t sure of many things, and the answer to this question was something I was sure of.  I returned his half broken smile with mine, and replied ‘I don’t know.’ The same answer I’ve been giving him over and over for the past month.

I watched him as his eyes crumpled. He held back the tears and smiled. He didn’t expect a different answer from me, but he hoped against everything that maybe, just maybe, today will be a day where I give him a different answer.

I don’t know how he could love someone who was never really sure of their own feelings. Someone who never really opened up to the possibilities of the wide world. Someone who remained to keep a bit of herself hidden. Someone like you.

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow.