Word Vomit

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, feeling my lungs constricting, the bed sheets wrapping around my body, the darkness overwhelming me. I’m paralyzed and I’m not sure if it’s my body still waking up or just the fear.

It’s not ghosts, monsters or demons that scare me. It’s these little whispers in head that make me wonder if I’m about to follow the yellow brick road straight to crazy land. These insecurities that I manage to suffocate during the day.

I wonder if I’m good enough. If I’ll ever amount to something. If this career I chose isn't just a suicide mission. I chose a path that millions of people take and only a few special persons succeed. So what made me think I could make it? The little awkward girl from Malta whose dreams are bigger than the island she lives on. Is it a cruel joke from Mother Nature? To make us humans want more than we can ever achieve?

Why can I not be happy with finding a mediocre job that earns enough money to afford a roof over my head? Instead of trying to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and risk ending up on the road, under newspapers, begging for money to be able to buy cheap carton box wine to forget what we did to ourselves. Are we naturally self-destructive? Can we base our lives on the exceptions? Because most of those that succeed are exceptions. There were several other people who were as good but just weren't lucky enough. And for a girl who’s luck can’t even get her a bus on time, well I’m in big trouble.

So I hope. I hope that by working hard and being relatively good, positive karma will reach me back. And let me tell you if karma is a bitch, then hope is karma’s mother. And I am screwed.



All my life I have surrounded myself with words. Words I read in books, words I hear from films and shows. Words I write. I was always fascinated by the power of words. How a passage from a book, a few words from a writer, a couple of lines from a movie can make you feel so much when it isn't even directed to you. I know the power of words. I know what hateful words can do to a person and I know what a few nice words can do as well.

One of the reasons I love writing is that you can delete and rewrite whatever you want. You can think things through. You can place words in a way that they mean exactly what you want them to mean.

It’s quite different than speaking, especially for a professional blurter like me. I tend to say words that sound quite well in my head and sound horrible when spoken out loud. It could be a cowardly thing to do but I prefer writing. I don’t do well with phone calls or face to face talking especially with strangers.

I’m awkward. I have accepted that fact a long time ago and I've dealt with it. But that doesn't mean that when I blurt something out, that should have stayed hidden in the folds of my brain, I don’t cringe. Not only do I cringe but I keep thinking about those few stupidly spoken words. I wonder what effect they had on the person. I wonder what others think of me because of those words. And vice-versa when someone says something, I analyse it, I dissect it and investigate all the possibilities of its meaning
I realise that most people don’t mean half the things they say. Or they do and that’s just another lie society fed us. But true or not, I do ponder on words. I love words. I love how they sound. I love the fact that with a few well chosen words, you can make a sentence musical. I like the fact that you can express most things with words. I love learning new words, hearing new phrases, the many possibilities.

That is also why, when words fail, I pretty much retreat in my shell. Because there are moments where words are useless. What do you tell a person who has lost a loved one? What do you tell someone who just had their dreams crushed? What do you tell a couple who are going through a break up?

I feel useless and powerless and well no one likes to feel that way do they? When I’m at a loss for words, I feel like I've disappointed people, like I've disappointed myself. Because words mean so much to me and I expect to be able to say a few nice words. I expect it from myself even though maybe no one else does.

Because when I’m writing, I feel like my awkwardness disappears. It’s the only place I feel at ease. It’s my safe haven. And if I don’t have that, I have nothing.


The beauty of the night

When I was a little girl I used to be scared of the dark. I used to leave the lamp on at night because I was scared of what I might find. I was so scared when the electricity was out I would wake up and lie in bed eyes wide open waiting for all kinds of monsters to creep out of the corners.

Growing up I have come to embrace the darkness the night brings, but more so the silence that accompanies it.  As the island goes to sleep, I sit in my study room, the lights switched off leaving the glare of my laptop, music in my ears, a cigarette in my hand and writing stories or studying.

The silence that comes with the night is one of a kind. Even with an empty house during the day, the noise still remains. The city is bustling with activity, the cars, and the people. It can never be really quiet. Even the sunlight creates noise, bringing to light all kinds of details. Seemingly pointing out how time is running out. The night doesn't do that. It is kind to its creatures. Allows them the pleasure of pretending that time has stood still, that you are all alone in the world, that nothing else matters. It doesn't last long. But while it does, it’s pure bliss.

The quiet before the storm.

The peace before the war.

The soft darkness of the night before the harsh light of day.

My little piece of paradise.


What grownups never told me

Grownups never told me that an adult can feel lost. They never told me that I could find myself at 21 not sure of what to do. I was supposed to turn into a swan, that’s what they all said, so why am I still an awkward duckling?

Grownups never told me that finding friends would be so tough. They never told me why I should have friends, just that I should. They never said that friends could be your second family. Grownups never said either that there would be people who would want to hurt me. They never said that being nice and kind would not always be enough.

Grownups never told me what boys would be like. They never said that temptation could be sweeter than the sweetest chocolate. They said boys will want one thing and one thing only, they never said that I may want it too.

Grownups never told me what alcohol would be like. They said that it was bad, just like drugs, cigarettes, and boys. They never said that being drunk can be the best feeling in the world. That just by drinking some throat-burning liquid you could let your inhibitions go. They also never spoke of the reason why I shouldn't drink too much. I had to find out myself what a hangover feels like and how bad your stomach and throat feel after it all comes back up.

Grownups never told me why I should believe in God. They taught me about God and his son, they taught me about right or wrong but they never gave me a reason to believe other than because I was supposed to. Grownups never talked about their own struggle with faith in their life. They handed me a conscience and I was left feeling guilty for not understanding, for not getting it. They never said that it would be all right if I had doubts. I was supposed to believe or be damned to an eternity in hell.

Grownups never told me that being different would be accepted. They said that I should be myself, but a version of myself that is like the others.

Grownups didn't say that it would be all right to want something more than a husband, a house, 1.7 children and a pet. They told me to find a career but put it in reserve once I start a family. They always told me that family comes first; they never suggested that there could be an absence of such family. Grownups never told me that I had a choice on the family I want; they made me believe it was just the natural way of life.

Grownups never told me the many different families that could exist. They never said anything about the different couples, the different sexuality. They never mentioned that love is love no matter who gives it and receives it. They never talked about the strength of this emotion or about how weak it may leave you if you give it to the wrong person.

Grownups never said that the grownups themselves might fail me. That the trust I gave so freely might come back and slap me in the face. Grownups never let me know that they were anything less than perfect. I had to find out the harsh truth on my own. They never said that they were not superheroes; they never said that they had no super powers. I had to find out about their lack of powers the same way I found out about Santa Claus and the tooth fairy, by stumbling upon the truth.

Grownups never said a lot of things. They never said that I was allowed to make mistakes. They never said that I was a human being and therefore by default I would mess up. They never said that although my age would make me an adult in the eyes of the law, I would still feel like a little child, lost and in need of guidance. Grownups never thought to give me a heads-up on the hurdles ahead instead let me stumble through in search of myself, collecting all kinds of scars, mementos, and quirky people just like me.


The jobless student

I quit my old job because I was miserable in it. I figured even though a part time job whilst in University will probably never be fully satisfying it shouldn't make you want to cry all the time. Besides I reckoned, I'm in University, I have experience in retail and catering, how difficult finding a job will be right? Wrong.

Firstly it seems that being in University isn't as big an advantage as I thought, and it actually might be a  drawback. Employers want you to be at their beck and call and having lectures and a life besides a job doesn't allow that.

Also there's this little thing about not owning a car. most jobs ask that you have transport so they won't have the responsibility of taking you home. Also so that you cannot have 'the bus was late' excuse. I am prone to think that this request increased when Arriva took over. Now I'm still taking lessons but to buy a car I'm going to need a job. And to get a job it seems like I'm going to need a car. So it seems I'm stuck in a never ending cycle.

And the worst part of it all? When all I want is to drown in alcohol and forgot about it, I'm too broke to buy booze.

I'll sign off with a gif from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. because everything you need to say, they say it better.


Winter Child

Now I know that to be a winter child you should technically be born in winter and I was born in May but in my defence I didn't have much say in the matter at the time since I was still two un-joined cells.

I hate summer. The heat, the stickiness, the bugs, and the horrible smells. God! I listen to people saying they love summer and I just snort. I mean seriously unless you're a mermaid how the hell can you love summer?

I want winter. I want to wear big sweaters and feel like I'm being hugged by my clothes. I want to listen to the rain while I'm writing a story with a cup of coffee to warm my hands. I want to wrap myself in a blanket and sit on the sofa reading a good book. I want to get into bed after a long day and cuddle in my many layers of blankets. I want to prepare for Christmas, see houses decorated in red, green and gold.

I want to be able to hug someone without getting stuck to them. I want to cuddle up to my pet without feeling like I'm being hugged by Cousin Itt from the Addams family.

Yes summer is fun when you finish school and you get to go the first time to the beach and swim but after that the rest is all too much.

I'm a winter child through and through!


Small tribute to fallen stars

It's funny how you can feel so sad for the death of someone you never met. Yes I'm talking about Cory Monteith. Yes I watch glee. That show contained some of my most favourite things, music, dancing and it's a tv series. Sure I don't always like the episodes and yes I've occasionally shown my annoyance with Finn as a character but I loved Cory acting, he was great and his voice was amazing.

And now he's gone. We'll never see him in another glee episode. I cannot look up the new movies he's going to take part in. And I can't cry because I feel stupid being sad for someone I never knew.

It's a weird feeling. It's the same feeling I had when Amy Winehouse died, and Brittany Murphy and Heath Ledger. It's weirder still when you see their previous movies, shows or listen to their songs. You can no longer look forward to a new album or a new movie. You can only soak up on what they left behind.

And yes I'm sad that I will never get a chance to meet them. Because I am like any other person and that little girl inside of me hoped that one day I would get to meet them or at least have a quick glance at them across the road.

So yes this is a tribute to all the fallen stars and a thank you for their part in making the world a brighter place.

Go on diss me for being corny. Go on make fun of me and my love for glee. I don't really care. I'm sad today and I guess it's okay.


A little heart to heart

So yes I kind of lied last time. But in my defense I had 9 exams and 4 assignments so I was quite busy.

But enough of excuses. Summer is here finally. I'm back to working at tal-lira (poor me) after a 2 month break . The problem is that now it's not tal-lira anymore, it's tal-lira plus jumbo store! And to be honest it's weird. I've been working there for 2 years and today was my first day back, and it feels like I've started a whole new job! Prices are totally different, I have no idea were things are and my boss' son is always somewhere supervising. Gahh he's worse than the boss himself. He's young, like a year older than me but filled with so much air that if he were to touch a pointed surface he would burst. Those who know me, know that I hate this job with a passion, but at least before I knew how to do it. Now not only I'm back to the job I hate but I also have to re-learn everything, even how to cash thanks to the new electronic cash. Mehh. Oh well rant over.

So as you have noticed this isn't one of my usual posts. It's more of an update of my very interesting (note the sarcasm) life. I also wanted to let you guys and gals know that I'm going to start story writing again. I love blogging, I do, but story writing is something that's been in my blood since I was a little girl. Also I found this site, Wattpad, were people upload their stories and other people rate them. So I'm going to be posting it there. Bdw that site has some amazing stories. It also has some iffy stories and some just plain bad with horrible grammar but that's to be expected. The good stories though are amazing. It's quite addicting really.

I could post my upload link if you guys are interested. You don't need to sign up to read it. I haven't started writing yet though and I'm not sure when exactly I will. I have to plan it out first etc. But yeah I just wanted to let you know. Oh and although I'm not the most romantic stories and I don't really believe in everlasting love, the story will be a love story. I mean romance was meant to be written in my opinion. I really don't like romantic gestures live, but I love a good sappy book or movie. Then again, it doesn't mean I'm gonna write a sappy book/short story. But well I wanted to let you know, because you seem to like my writing and maybe wanted to see some more of it. Or not. That's ok.

Well I will try to blog more often again. Probably about my evil boss' son and my horrible work.



The one were she says sorry for being away for so long

So yes I'm trying to mellow you guys a little by mimicking the title to the episode titles of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Am I forgiven yet?

Well I could go on about how I've been stressed and busy and all that but in truth it's just bullshit. Not that I haven't been busy or stressed but it wasn't the reason for not writing. I didn't write because well I didn't have anything to write and because I didn't want to write and because I felt that nothing I wrote would matter so I just didn't write.

So yeah I've been stuck in a funk for quite a while. And part of that included my reluctance to write. In a world filled with so much talent and competitiveness a person like me struggles very much. It's not so hard to believe that there are others that are so much better than you. Easier still to believe that you'll never be worth anything. That your works are so mediocre they can't be called amateur's work and that the paper containing your words isn't worth using as toilet paper.

I've been struggling and losing hope. I could say it's just a phase, but that's what the vet said about my dog's nibbling habits and it's been two years and he's running around with my sock in his mouth while I'm writing this, so I'm kind of scared of phases.

 But I know I need to get out of this self built cage. Fear. That's what this cage was built with. Fear and self-doubt and low self-confidence. With a handle only I can touch and a lock only I can break.

So well sorry. Sorry for not writing. And I'm sorry if I made you give up on me. But I'm back. Sort of. Hopefully. And I'm going to try and stay this time.


The vortex

It’s there, it always is
That small voice in my head
Always ready to pounce
It feeds on my uncertainties
My weaknesses give it strength
It is very good at playing hide-and-seek
Lets me soak in the illusion that I have won
And when the moment is just right
When I feel good and happy
When I feel like I belong
It jumps at my throat
And drags me into a whirpool
The strong currents pull me in
And I turn round and round
So that I cannot see anymore
The difference between right and wrong,
Truth and false, friends and foe
It has me just where it wanted
Confused and distorted so that I may not escape
This vortex of the mind 


A child's innocence

There was this little boy sleeping in his pushchair as his mother went around the shop, to well shop obviously. This little dude looked so peaceful oblivious to the world around him. He looked so innocent, still unharmed by life.

I could go on a rant about how I wish I was that little guy. How I wish I regressed back to childhood were your only worry is whether your mother's going to clean your poop-filled nappy. But I won't. Not really. I mean what is the point of going into such nostalgia of something that we hardly even remember.

What worried me though was the thought that the boy and all those children his age or younger would eventually grow up and have to face the world. And it's pretty disturbing knowing that in a few years time the child will have lost all his innocence. He will find out all about the evil and hardship the world contains. The disappointment and sadness that will etch away at his heart. He will find out that fairytales never come true, that people hardly ever get what they deserve, good or bad.

But more horrifying than that is the thought that this child might turn out to be the man that makes other children realise that. He might turn out to be the biggest bastard on earth. Or a tyrannical multimillionaire boss, or even, oh the horror, the new Justin Bieber.

I wonder if his mother ever thinks such thoughts when she looks at her little angel. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn't. All I know is that all these thoughts would drive me crazy. Children are cute, just like baby tigers, but you don't necessarily want to be near them when they grow up.



Breathless. Her hands wrapped around her body in a straitjacket. The more she moves the more restricted she feels. The straps seem to get tighter, hugging her body. Tighter still, starting to bite into her skin. Pressing her ribs together, reducing the capacity of her lungs. She can't breathe. It hurts. She panics and struggles to escape. But it keeps tightening, until she feels her ribs start breaking, one by one. and she thinks she's going to die. She exhaled her last breathe...

She woke up sweating. The sheets of her bed a tangle around her body. She takes a couple of deep breathes and exhales. It was only a dream. She thought. "It was only a dream" she said out loud.

She got up ready to start her day. Her tortured soul still entrapped in chains.


Dear past me

Dear past me,

Don't over react to things. Things don't have to be perfect to be ok. People can make mistakes and still be good. Don't be so judgmental. Don't worry so much about other people's judgement.

Sweetie it's ok to make mistakes. Don't be so self conscious. Don't become part of the furniture. Enjoy your life. Enjoy you're friends.

Darling I know you feel alone. And I know you think it's the worst feeling in the world. And I also know you think you'll always be alone, but none of these are true. You will find people who like you for who you are. And unfortunately you'll realise that there are worse feelings than loneliness. Also pushing people away won't help the problem.

I want you to know that in the future things will look up on you. I also want you to know that you will go through some dark phases but these will help you to become a better person. Don't give up. The best is yet to come.

Honey I wish I could hug you for every time you felt sad but you should know that in the future you will find friends that do just that.

Also go slow on tequila, it's not a very good friend. On that note, watch out for wine as well. Jack Daniel's will be your best friend, just don't overestimate him he can still hit your gag reflex if you know what I mean.

If you were to learn how to walk on heels, it would be a great help for present me. Too bad we're a klutz.

Oh also, you're gonna find a summer job, that will end up your part-time job for a long time. The faster you learn how to be tough the better. Also sarcasm will be your best asset on this job. And try not to die from boredom.

By the way sweetie, you're going to get a very sweet dog. If you were to keep chargers, headphones, shoes and biros out of reach, he'd be perfect.

You're also going to go on your first vacation abroad. Beware of men that want to talk on the Ponte Vecchio. Well a man. He'll talk about locks and marriage. Just ignore him. Oh and hit your friends in the head for not wanting to move away.

Finally I just wanted to tell you, just be yourself. Smile often. Enjoy the tiny moments.

good luck


P.S. If you were to learn how to shut up when you're drunk it will save us lots of embarrassing moments.


The Alcoholic

His hands twitch. His body bent over the toilet. His stomach keeps heaving, trying to rid his cells of the poison.  The sheet of fog that alcohol gently tucks around his brain is slowly being lifted. He cannot let the clarity come. He will not let the fog go.

Wine. He needs wine. He goes to the shop. He pulls up four bottles of wine. As he goes to the checkout the lass behind the counter gives him a smile. "Rough day?"

 He doesn't answer, angered by her tone of superiority. He wants to shout at her. He wants to slap her. Yes it's a rough day. Every day is a rough day. But he doesn't.  He knows she's right. He doubled his usual shopping list. It was a bad day today.

 He grunts instead. He takes his change and leave.

Back home he opens the cap. Places the mouth of the bottle to his lips and lets the slightly sour taste trickle down his throat. Slowly at first. Like a crack in a river dam. Then more until he feels like he's drowning in the red liquid.

And the fog comes crashing down. And he can see clearly in the dizziness it brings. No emotions. No memories. Just the bottle of wine.

It was a bad day today.


Confessions of a bookworm

I love books. I love reading. I go through books like a chain smoker goes through a packet of cigarettes. I get excited about the next book while I'm still reading the current one.

All the stories leave an impression on me, some more than others. But with every book, I take away something. Maybe some new knowledge, or some random fact that no one will ever use in their life. And how different people react to situations, how there's always evil and good in both persons and how the things they go through decides which side the balance will take.

And then there are those few books that do something more. They change you, give you a new perspective in life, they define you. The Harry Potter series were a set of those books for me. I grew up with them. Ron, Harry, Hermione, they're who kept me company when I felt alone. These books are what made me want to write.

And now I just finished the Hunger Games trilogy. And for me they're as good as Harry Potter. They're those books that keep you up at night to finish them. They're what your thoughts stray to when you're daydreaming during lectures. They're what you're looking forward to go home to after work.

And I feel a little lost, because I finished them. And when I closed the last, tear-stained book I looked up and I thought how can things keep going on. How can people just go on with their lives as if nothing happened? And that's how you know, that a book, a story, changed you. Because you feel different. You feel happy to have shared the story with the characters. And you feel sad because you have to say goodbye to them now. And it's like saying goodbye to old friends. I'll never read about Harry again, or Katniss.

It's scary how much of an impact a story can make on me. And it's wonderful that it does. And I can only hope that one day, I'll write a story that will be at least 1/1000 as good as those books. And to make one person in the whole world feel like I felt when I finished these books would be amazing. Because books can change you. They make you grow up. They make you envision your future. They make you hope.


Winter Ramble

It's cold. It's finger-numbing cold. And it was a long day. And the blood flow has reduced greatly in my feet. And my back aches. Long days at university. Short span of sunlight. It's winter. It's second year. It's life.

How do you find your place in the world? How can you decide your path? Your future? It's such a big thing. Your future. Your whole future. Every day you're going to have to wake up and go to a job that the career you chose finds for you. And what then? What if I wake up when I'm 40 and realize I've made a terrible mistake? It's not too late to change your path or is it? When I'm already scared of making the wrong decision now will I have enough courage to admit that I might have made a mistake? Will I have enough courage to just change everything and start from scratch?

Sometimes I feel like I'm way over my head. I sit in class and I feel so useless. It's like I'm Nemo, a small fish with a bad fin surrounded by great white sharks. There are so many people that know more than me, that already have a foot in the door of an overly competitive industry. And I'm there singing "just keep swimming" with Dory.

And why do I keep using cartoons as comparison only my subconscious knows. And maybe I know too. Because I study psychology. Because I couldn't just let things be. I had to analyse everything. Every tiny emotion so that I cannot just feel sad, or lonely, or foolish. I had to know the reason why so I can shake myself out of it.  And you might think that's healthy. And it is. But sometimes you just want to sit on the bed and cry just because, it's been a long day or because I have a mess of hair and at least three unintentionally different colours in my hair. But I can't. Instead I mentally bitch-slap myself and yell at the mirror " Cut the crap you whiney baby!” 

It's stress. And yes this is a ramble. And yes I haven't written something of substance in a while. And no I cannot promise a good blog soon. I'm sorry. Have patience. It might get better. Or don't. Because it might not. 


My kinda heaven

I wonder if heaven did exist what would it be like? I think we all have a version of our own. A little image tucked at the back of the subconscious about a little place where peace reigns supreme.

My kinda heaven would be filled with the music. It would have a soundtrack, with music adequate to each situation. And we get to be anything we want. I would probably be a hybrid, with fairy wings, witches power and ninja moves. We can travel to places with a blink of an eye. It'll be like living in a magical place forever.

My kinda heaven would be one with no headaches, colds, or any other illnesses. It would have an endless library where you can immerse yourself in it and come out weeks later. And a big flat screen where I can watch all my favourite series. We'd be surrounded by our friends and family but we can go away when they become too much.

My kinda heaven would be being drinking and no hangovers. We can smoke and not get cancer. We can take drugs and not OD. Have sex without getting STD's or pregnant.

My kinda heaven would be place where I can find serenity. Where thoughts stop flowing for a while. Where worries are put at bay.

My kinda heaven would be place where I get to play out different parts of stories and leave when I don't like how it develops.


La Joie De Vivre

I want to sit in a dark corner of a bar with my friends, a bottle of beer and a cigarette. I want to talk about nothing and everything. I want to argue about the philosophy of the world as if we will manage to answer the questions no one has ever managed to answer.

I want to have a night where I don't have to worry about the future. Where I don't have to worry if I'm doing enough at school. Where I don't have to worry whether I'm wasting 4 years of my life to end up back at the start, without a good job, no money and still in Malta.

I want to put on some make up, a nice shirt, nice perfume, and go out and drink some cheap wine.

I want to freeze the time for just a few hours. So that neither the past nor the future exists. So that for a few hours I can be just me.

I want a taste of la joie de vivre.


May the funniest party win

It is electoral campaign season in Malta. Unlike many other countries campaigners have no trouble in getting people interested in voting. While countries like America get around 50% of voting, in Malta the voting is over 90%. I don’t know if the reason is because it’s a small country and there’s nothing much else to talk about besides football or if it’s because we have very charismatic leaders. But one thing is sure, the Maltese population love politics.

Yet campaigners still go the extra mile to attract people in their campaign by using billboards, mobile messages and telephone calls among others. What I find ironic is the childish way with which they go about their campaigning. The easiest and most prominent examples are of course the billboards. They are creative and very amusing like these two:

But I wonder whether they are really effective. Are floating voters really influenced by such propaganda? Of course it tickles the fancy of core voters, but isn't politics supposed to be a serious matter? Shouldn't they be more concerned about their proposals and making sure that if they are chosen they can actually follow through with their promises?

When asked whether billboards and other propaganda marketing influenced their choice Maria Debono said that “the billboards I usually see while I'm driving make me realise that both parties do not make it about what they are offering, but try to make fun of each other through the billboards.” Jane* agreed with her saying that “the only thing which may influence my decision are the debates.”

Chiara Darmanin argued that seeing the billboards “Made me curious [...] as to what they are telling the public they will achieve after they win the election.” And Hannah* thinks that “the messages can be irrelevant sometimes.”

*Names where changed to protect the privacy of the individual.



So this is a short story. I got inspired by this music video. Enjoy.

There was a little kid with a face of a monster. He grew up hidden away from the world. He was homeschooled and hidden from the world so he wouldn't be bullied. He was hidden because his mother couldn't face the shame of having a monster as a child. Though he had a face of a monster his heart was that of a prince. He was kind and sweet and gentle. He was polite and well-mannered.

As a grownup he decided that it was time to come out of hiding. So he went to university hopeful that the world would accept him. He smiled and went out of his way to be kind. But his smiles were mistaken as growls and kind gestures, like pulling out a chair for a girl, seemed like he was attacking her. He was nicknamed 'Monster'. He was either ridiculed or left alone because they were too scared to talk to him. As months passes he stopped making efforts and his once high-held head now hid his neck as his chin touched his torso. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he readied himself to face the rest of his life alone.

And then one day as he was walking to his dorm he heard a girl screaming and his inner superhero instincts overcame his hatred for the prejudiced world and ran to see what had happened. The girl was being harassed by her boyfriend. Monster punched the pretty boy who got scared and ran away. He looked into the girl's eyes and was enchanted. Then he seemed to once again remember his place, lowered his head and started to walk away.

"Wait" she said. He turned and looked at her. "I... Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"What's your name?" she asked warily as she took a few steps towards him.


The girl gasped. "That can't be your proper name?"

"A name is a word with which people identify you with. I'm known as Monster."

"Well...um...” the girl faltered.”Thanks. I have to go."


Monster kept waving as the beautiful girl with the long brown hair walked away from him. And he felt warmth right beneath his ribcage. And for the first time in months his lips seemed to want to form a smile. And his steps felt lighter. And his head was once again held up.  And he found in the next few days that he couldn't stop smiling.

And he realised that she was in most of his classes. And he started to look out for her around the campus. And she'd wave at him and smile.  And that would make his day. His days seemed to brighten up. And he felt like life was smiling down on him.

And one day he plucked enough courage to go sit near her at the library. And she didn't stand up and walk away. She just smiled at him and kept on reading. So he did the same the next day and the next.  And one day she turned towards him and introduced herself.

"Hi, we haven't officially met. I'm Jodie."

"H...Hi Jodie. What a lovely name." he said as he shook her hand.

"We have classes together don't we?"

"Yes we do. I sit at the back so I don't scare anyone."

"You don't scare people."

"That's not what their facial expressions say"

"Well I'm not scared of you." She said as she patted his hand.

"I...I... thanks. That means a lot to me."

So a friendship seemed to strike and they started spending more time together. And sometimes she'd sit with him at the back of the class. And she joined him in the morning run. And she'd go over to his room so they could study together. But she was always the one to make the first move.

He never joined her with her friends in class. And he never sat with her at the cafeteria. And she never asked him to. Because they both knew that the rest of her friends weren't as accepting as her. And he didn't mind because all he wanted was her companion no one else's. That way he could have her attention all for himself. He loved her. It was that simple.

Slowly she was falling for him too. His face no longer repulsed her. It was just there but it had the added traits she'd been finding out about him. So his face was no longer that of a monster, but a caring, kind, courageous young man. And she didn't know what to make of it.

 Her friends had been picking on her. At first they thought it was just a charity case. But she'd been ditching them to be with him, and they didn't like that. They told her time and again that he was not for her. There was no future with him. Her ex-boyfriend called her parents. So now she was harassed from all the people close to her. Her mother urged her to get back with her ex. He was a nice good looking lad who came from a nice family. So what if he had some flaws. Everyone did. It would be her job to fix them.

But whenever she was with him she found she could forget all their criticism. He made her feel special. Like she was the only person in the world. He let her talk and vent and hung on to every word she said. And he always had some little present for her. Sometimes flowers sometimes a poem or a book she had mentioned. He bought her a little lamp to attach to her book for when she stayed up at night to read. And he made her book marks from flower petals pressed in books. And she no longer called him Monster. Instead she called him Prince, he was her prince in shining armour who dashed in and saved her.

He almost cried the first time she called him Prince. He loved her so much more that day. And now he spent all his days thinking of her. He loved the vanilla smell in her hair. He loved her smile. He loved how heated she got when she was discussing something important for her. He loved how she curled like a cat to read a book. How her face lit up when he saw her. How when he talked she stopped what she was doing to listen intently to what he said. He loved the little dimples in her cheeks. Her little upturned nose. He loved her. She was his princess.

They loved each other. They could have gotten their happily ever after. But society is never satisfied. And she was getting tired of fighting with her friends and family. And he hated to see her so sad. And the day came when they said their goodbyes. And she went back to her little perfect world. While he fell into an abyss of sorrow. They were both very heartbroken. And even though she was surrounded with people she felt as alone as he did. But in a relationship there's always someone who loved more. And one day, she received a note from him. And it tore her heart as she read. But she was too late.

"I love you so much. I cannot imagine my life without you. You were the only reason for me to stay alive. And now you're gone. I hope you'll be happy. Don't waste your tears for me. You're too beautiful to ruin it crying.

I love you

Your Monster"

He'd said his last goodbyes to the one person he truly cared about. And he slipped into a painless darkness leaving the world that treated him so hard behind him.

And she felt like her world had ended. And her heart shattered in pieces. And she thought she could not move on. But she did. Because that's how life works.

And no there weren't all the people that he helped at his funeral. It was just her and his mother and the priest. Because this is not a fairytale. And the Beast does not get the Beauty. A monster can never be happy. Because society would never allow it.