via Daily Prompt: Archaic

Once again, I use a prompt post as a way for me to get personal. This blog wasn’t even intended to be a truly personal delve into my thoughts and ideas on life but I couldn’t resist the topic once the prompt was present.

It may not be truly archaic but it almost feels that way now: I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of many sexual partners until you find your true partner.

It is usual in society to freely have sex with people, many often engaging in sexual activity only hours after meeting, with no plans for the future or to even see one another again. These one night stands wouldn’t have been a thing in the past , as a hundred years ago they would have been considered truly shocking and not at all the way to behave. Though I am not yet twenty, I have to agree.

The idea of sleeping with someone who was unwilling to plan their life with me, have children with me or even marry me is repulsive. Why on earth would I share such intimacies with someone who would most likely disappear in the morning only to never be seen again? Why would I allow someone I had no trust for to be with my at my most vulnerable?

Of course, I completely understand why society now is a good thing – the freedom, the feminism, the field work. Who would want to be confined into a tiny box, never allowed to express their sexuality or figure out what kind of person they are? If the person who reads this opposes my opinion and enjoys their sexual freedom, then that’s perfectly fine, I’m not going to insult you. Yet for me, personally, I couldn’t do it. I’m not the kind of person who would willingly expose myself to someone who has no in-depth interest in me or vice versa.

I suppose I’m old fashioned, I’m a prude. Maybe I have too much respect for myself (or too much cynicism towards most people in the world) to consider such actions that are deemed ‘normal’ by today’s standards. I couldn’t allow myself to get my feelings confused and go through the agony of wondering whether or not that person truly wanted me after we have done the deeds, or would have liked me had they considered attempting to get to know me as a person. I couldn’t allow the risk of getting pregnant with someone’s child when they wouldn’t have any interest in children with me or having children at all (my deal breaker). I couldn’t let myself become sick, either, should this person I have no trust or bond with have an illness that could be passed on through sexual intercourse.

I sound morbid but it’s true. There’s too many risks and there’s too many emotions attached, particularly for me as a person who finds it too easy to become emotionally attached. To lighten the tone of my post (my doubts cast towards flings), I prefer to think of it as waiting for the right person. I may be young but I know there are things, and people, that are worth the wait, and I intend to continue to do so rather than give myself so freely all in the name of half an hour of enjoyment.

(I know I sound so cynical but I try to write this as optimistically as I can)


Guilty (a nonsensical, self-indulgent ramble)

via Daily Prompt: Guilty


If I was to write about all the things I was guilty of, I would easily write a novel. It’s no exaggeration, at least to me, that I have many things to feel guilty of, from past experiences to personal feelings. The easiest thing for me to write about on this blog, without dipping into my inner territories, is writing itself. Writing is the reason why I started this blog, so naturally I lean towards writing about it when I’m not bumbling around trying to figure out what topic to write about.

I am guilty for the abandonment of this blog. For years I’ve dreamed of being a writer, and I started this up to get some practice in, to hopefully somehow get noticed or have a backlog of my creative experiences. I also needed a place to write about the things I love the most – music and movies, along with a few other things along the way.

Admittedly, my writing isn’t it’s best – even this post is a confusing, watery wreck. It’s still shaky, particularly as my regular writing sessions outside of the online world stopped thanks to metaphorical mud being thrown into my creativity’s face. Yet it’s not about how good I am or how I compare to other writers. It’s about being able to take things from my mind, as confusing and weak as they are, and systematically typing them up into something that makes sense.

Since I haven’t been doing that – writing anything at all over many months, let alone regularly – I feel guilt. Not that I’m letting anyone down – my blog is invisible to all but me – but I am letting myself down. I’m letting down my past self by not fulfilling the dreams I had since I was a child. I’m letting my present self down by failing to do what I love. I’m letting my future self down, by not taking the opportunity to write now so I have something to fall back on and be proud of when the time comes.

I have little to say, as this is just something I’ve began to write off the top of my head without planning, but I’m hoping this will be the start of a new path of writing and pushing myself to get better at what I love to do. Perhaps it will stop the feelings that I’m not living up to my potential. After all, I’m the only person who can finish my own guilt.

Daily Prompt: Calm

via Daily Prompt: Calm


¬†Anyone with anxiety will know the struggle of trying to become calm: it’s almost an untouchable dream to be calm at the height of feeling anxious.

For me, I spent three long months at the beginning of 2016 trapped in an anxiety bubble, where the state of being calm seemed to be a million miles away out of reach of me, and almost impossible to achieve. Every action was tainted with fear and every thought was a catalyst to add to my distressed state – the complete opposite to how I feel now.

Though I still have my moments of crushing worry and an unsettled stomach, I find it easy to be calm, without even thinking about it or trying to force myself to be comfortable in my mind. Looking back on that period is impossible to believe and almost terrifying to consider that that was the way I lived for three whole months, though at the time it felt almost like three years, with each day dragging out like an endless ocean of jagged, choppy waves that never settle.