“My head is full of poison

And my heart is full of doubt.”

— the cure, Olivia Rodrigo.

Dear Failure,

you’re to blame for every wink of sleep lost, for all those passions left unpursued, for the bittersweet reality of ‘chase your dreams’. It’s not a surprise one comes to hate you, to fear you even.

Does it entertain you, the fantasies you stitch into the seams of our dreams? Do you like it, how people tend to cower at your name, how they let alone the paths that could potentially lead them to you? Do you prefer the solitude or are your days tinged with loneliness? I believe the former; why else would you scare away the people planning to come to your way, causing them to scatter?

“Failure makes you stronger,” they say, and it’s left unchallenged. But what do you think, darling? Is your presence directly proportional to our strength? How is it that all you really do is make one petrified to test out said “strength”?

Another fan favourite is “everything happens for a reason.” But I refuse to believe that the reason in question is always good. And if it isn’t, it doesn’t seem like something very positive anymore, does it?

Frankly, dear Failure, all you are is a vile, vicious thief. You take and take, in the name of some so-called strength and the idea of 'reason'. You've taken confidence, time, opportunities, and a version of myself I thought I'd become. You are a thief, and no one is doing anything about it.

I have a question

What’s your most useless piece of knowledge?

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And what do you leave in return? The residue of your presence laden with the emerald creases of envy and the tangible texture of doubt. Nights stolen because you decided to barge in with your petulant glory, embarrassment sharing my pillow, disappointment whispering bittersweet lullabies. And comparison...how do you choose who to visit? Who to let alone?

Do you remember that non-profit I dreamed of starting? I was so naive, thinking if I'd be good, you wouldn't visit me. That I was doing it to save the world, isn't that what everyone wants? Except you, I learned. And now the ghost of that dead attempt follows me. It follows me, still, haunting when really, it is haunted itself by you.

“I’ve never been a natural

All I do is try, try, try.”

— mirrorball, Taylor Swift.

I win something and think about it for two days. I lose something and think about it forever.

Now, whenever you choose to stay away, I don’t feel happy, exactly. I just feel blatant relief. That’s another thing you took from me, the celebration. Evading your homecoming is the bare minimum; anything else is unacceptable.

At the end of the day, you haven’t taught me much except that the world is a cruel, unfair place, and thievery is awful. And perhaps the aforementioned strength really does exist, but it doesn’t erase the hurt. There are better ways of doing it. Learning something from you doesn’t make it worthwhile.

One could argue that to gain something, you need to lose something. But you take more than what is fair payment.

Will you have the audacity to visit me yet again after this? I don’t forgive you; I probably never will.

“It takes strength to forgive

But I don’t feel strong.”

— the grudge, Olivia Rodrigo.

Confused and exhausted,

— Project: Untitled.

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“Google says—” Okay, so, you’re going to want to stop right there.

It’s no question that misinformation is spreading on the internet faster than ever. 73% of people say they have believed something merely because it was repeated by multiple sources.

You believed that, didn’t you? I bet you didn’t think of investigating where it came from or question why there were no sources sited. My goal here isn’t to ridicule you; it’s to make you aware of exactly how easy it is to skim past disinformation and misinformation on the internet.

According to a report by Pew Research Center, a median of 72% adults across 25 nations say the spread of false information online is a major threat to their country. And I’d say they’re right.

Nowadays, the internet is eating its own homework, and I have a story to tell.

But first things first…

I have a question

i) The company that does not exist

I recently came across a ProPublica story that intrigued me1. Here’s what happened:

ProPublica’s writers were investigating a Texas oil refinery startup (read that investigation here) when they happened to stumble upon a website of a company they were looking into. Brownsville Energy Storage Terminals, the company, had more than 850 employees and 28 million barrels of oil storage capacity.

Except…it didn’t.

ProPublica’s investigation had shown that the owner was “struggling to raise enough money for a single project in the U.S., not overseeing a massive, multinational oil storage corporation.”

What’s more baffling is that Brownsville Energy Storage Terminals is a real LLC.2

What did we miss? they asked themselves.

Upon further investigation, they managed to trace the origins of this company to a company by the name of Hostinger that offers an AI website builder.

The troubling bit is not AI. It’s the fact that a seemingly credible website contained false information about an existing company, and this false information was deemed credible enough for the Google AI Overview feature to authoritatively display as fact. This information would be merely accepted as truth by us unsuspecting humans.

I mean, it’s Google, isn’t it? It can’t be wrong!

Except it can.

And this raises serious concerns about the information we are being fed, and its quality.

Because…

If a website can make a company look real, how do we distinguish between truth and falsehood?

ii) Wait. What does “real” even mean?

Before asking how to find real information, one must ask the annoying question: what do we mean by real?

The answer seems simple enough but there are several things we tend to bundle together without thinking about them.

• A company can be a real legal entity3 without necessarily being the enormous operating business its website describes.

• A website can be real without everything written on it being true.

• A person can be listed as an executive without that listing proving that they actually hold that position

• A claim can be repeated a hundred times without becoming any more true than it was the first time.

Thus, if I theoretically find an LLC in an official government registry, I have established something important: the legal entity exists.

But I haven’t established that it has 850 employees.

I haven’t established that it operates internationally.

I haven’t established that the person listed on its website as its CEO actually is its CEO.

And I certainly haven’t established that every sentence on its website is true.

This is where the internet comes in; it waves a magic wand and suddenly all those distinctions blur. A registered company gets a website. The website gets an address, photographs, employee biographies and impressive-sounding numbers. Google indexes it. Someone searches for it. An AI summarizes what it finds. And suddenly, a collection of separate claims can feel like one big, verified fact:

This company is real.

But what we actually know might be much narrower:

This legal entity is real.

That difference is tiny in wording and enormous in meaning.

It’s not fair but it happens. Which takes us to the important point:

iii) The website looked real

The Stanford Web Credibility Project ‘is an investigative examination of what leads people to believe in the veracity of content found on the Web.’ A study by aforementioned project, How Do People Evaluate a Web Site's Credibility? Results from a Large Study, published in 2002, invited 2,684 "average people" to rate the credibility of websites in ten content areas. These areas were:

1. e-commerce

2. entertainment

3. finance

4. health

5. news

6. nonprofit

7. opinion or review

8. search engines

9. sports

10. travel

This data showed that an average user payed far more attention to the superficial aspects of a website. People tend to judge the credibility of a website based on its visual appeal.

"I would like to think that when people go on the Web they're very tough integrators of information, they compare sources, they think really hard," comments B.J. Fogg, director of this project, "but the truth of the matter—and I didn't want to find this in the research but it's very clear—is that people do judge a Web site by how it looks. That's the first test of the Web site. And if it doesn't look credible or it doesn't look like what they expect it to be, they go elsewhere. It doesn't get a second test. And it's not so different from other things in life. It's the way we judge automobiles and politicians.”

And so, what made the fake website of Brownsville Energy Storage Terminals appear credible4?

It had information on its alleged executive team. It had contact numbers listed. It was organised into tabs (Home, About Us, Our Services, Tank Terminals, Markets & Customers, Safety & ESO, Careers, Contact Us). I have to admit, it looked pretty substantial and well-maintained.

But what really makes a website credible? Domain registration? Company address?Telephone number? Employee biographies? Photographs? Press releases?Awards?Testimonials? Contact forms? Professional design?

There are so many aspects.

Brownsville Energy Storage Terminals’ fake website proves exactly how easy and cheap it is to create false digital entities. AI has lowered the cost of producing convincing-looking information.

And now that this untrue information has been put out there…

iv) Then Google read it

This is a major point in our story. Don’t believe me? Allow me to explain.

Google AI Overviews officially became a public feature in 2024. Nowadays, when one searches something, instead of a page linked with articles, we are presented with a Google AI Overview, a generated answer made of the information Google found across multiple sources. Some of these sources, however, are inaccurate.

According to Google’s website, “You'll find AI Overviews in your Google Search results when our systems determine that generative AI can be especially helpful – for example, when you want to quickly understand information from a range of sources.”

There is nothing mentioned about how these sources are picked and/or deemed credible.

Under the term ‘Important’, it is stated that “AI responses may include mistakes.” That is understatement. A New York Times investigation found that Google’s AI Overviews have around 85% to 91% factual accuracy, resulting in a 9% to 15% error rate that could represent millions of inaccuracies at scale, thanks to the loads of searches we conduct per day.

This raises questions about responsibility.

In relevance to the topic at hand, one must question the role Google’s AI Overview played as it used the fake website to answer the Google search.

If Google’s AI Overview did not participate, it would merely be:

Fake website → person sees fake website.

Because it did, it is:

Fake website → search engine encounters it → AI summarises it → person receives it as an answer.

So now, the question isn’t “Can someone put something fake online?” We know they can. Now the question is “Can something fake online become an apparently authoritative answer?”

SPOILER ALERT: evidence leans towards affirmative.

v) The internet starts believing itself

This is where the possibility of an information feedback loop comes in.

When a human creates information, an AI generates information using that information, and the response gets published. Now search engines index it, AI systems encounter it, AI incorporates it into future answers/content, humans encounter the answer, the answer becomes yet another piece of information online, future systems encounter that…

And so it goes on.

Tell me you see how bad this is getting.

vi) The source problem

And it gets worse.

Imagine you find the same claim on ten different websites.

Does that automatically verify the claim?

No.

It could be that Website A displayed false information, which Website B copied, which Website C copied…and you get my point.

Repetition does not mean the information being repeated is factually correct.

Knowing your credible sources is essential.

vii) So how the hell do we check anything?

I’m sure you’re questioning yourself by now.

“If a website looks professional, Google gives me an answer, and AI confidently explains something to me—how do I verify it?”

Well, I thought you’d never ask!

Here’s a list of questions I like to go through:

1. Who is telling me this?

Start with the source itself.

Is this:

• a government agency?

• a university?

• a scientific organisation?

• a news organisation?

• a company?

• an individual?

• an anonymous account?

Then ask what that source has to gain from you believing it.

A company telling you its own product is the best product has a fairly obvious interest in persuading you. That doesn’t automatically make its statement false, but it means you should look for independent evidence.

2. Where did they get it from?

This is one of the most important questions you can ask:

What’s the original source?

If an article says “a recent study found...”, don’t stop there.

Find the study.

If a post says “experts say...”, ask which experts.

If someone gives you a statistic, find the report or dataset behind it.

And if one article cites another article, keep going backwards until you reach the earliest credible source you can find.

A surprising amount of online “evidence” turns out to be one claim being copied from somewhere else.

3. Is the source actually saying what I’ve been told it says?

Read the original material.

This matters particularly with studies and statistics. A headline might say:

Scientists discover that X causes Y.

But the study itself might only have found that X and Y were associated.

Those aren’t necessarily the same thing.

Look at the original wording, the sample size, the date, and what the researchers actually concluded.

Don’t let somebody else’s interpretation replace the evidence.

4. When was it published?

Information expires.

A five-year-old article about today’s technology isn’t necessarily useful. A ten-year-old statistic about public opinion certainly shouldn’t automatically be presented as current.

Check:

When was this published?

And, when relevant:

When did the events or research actually happen?

A very old article appearing near the top of a search result doesn’t magically become recent.

5. Can I find independent confirmation?

This is where things get interesting.

Suppose one website says:

Company X has 850 employees.

You find another website saying exactly the same thing.

Great?

Not necessarily.

Did the second website independently establish the number, or did it simply copy the first?

Look for sources that don’t all trace back to the same original claim.

For an important fact, I’d rather have two genuinely independent sources than ten websites repeating one unsourced sentence.

6. Look for the primary source

When possible, go straight to the thing itself.

For example:

A court case → the court documents.

A scientific claim → the paper.

A company’s registration → the relevant corporate registry.

A government statistic → the government dataset or report.

A quote → the original speech, interview or transcript.

A law → the actual legislation.

Secondary reporting is incredibly useful, especially when you’re trying to understand complicated material. But primary sources tell you what actually exists underneath somebody else’s interpretation.

7. Check what the evidence actually proves

This is probably my favourite question.

Imagine you find an official government record proving that Company X is registered as an LLC.

Excellent.

What does that prove?

It proves that a legal entity was registered.

It does not automatically prove:

• how many employees it has;

• how much money it makes;

• where it operates;

• what services it provides;

• who actually works there;

• or whether every claim on its website is accurate.

Evidence has boundaries.

Don’t make your evidence prove more than it actually proves.

8. Look for the uncomfortable information

If you’re investigating something you already have an opinion about, deliberately look for information that could prove you wrong.

If you’re convinced a company did something terrible, search:

Company X evidence against allegation

If you’re convinced a scientific claim is true, search for credible criticism of it.

If you’re convinced a statistic is misleading, check the original methodology.

The goal isn’t to find somebody who disagrees with you for the sake of having two sides.

The goal is to discover whether your own conclusion survives contact with evidence that challenges it.

9. Be suspicious of confidence

This one is increasingly important.

A source can sound incredibly certain and still be wrong.

A website can have:

• beautiful graphics;

• a professional logo;

• photographs;

• statistics;

• an impressive “About Us” page;

• named executives;

• a physical address;

and still contain false information.

Likewise, an AI system can give you a beautifully written answer with complete confidence while getting something completely wrong.

Confidence is not evidence.

10. Finally: follow the trail yourself

Before I believe an important claim, I want to be able to answer:

Who said this?

How do they know?

Where is the evidence?

Can I get to the original source?

Does the original source actually support the claim?

Can I independently confirm it?

It’s lengthy, I agree. But when it comes to research, it’s important.

I must admit, this article is quite different from what I usually publish. All opinions and feedback is welcomed!

Leave a comment

Until we meet again,

— Project: Untitled

I remember fourth grade. We had this plump English teacher that the entire class loved. She was soft and rosy, and she had 20 — yes, 20 — cats. She used to give us a prompt every Tuesday, and then one by one we’d all answer. Once, the prompt was: “If I win the lottery, I will…”

I vaguely remember everyone speaking of giving it away to those in need, and our teacher saying, “Wow, you all are so ‘benevolent’. ‘Benevolent’ means very kind.” I thought, Well, I’m not benevolent. I had big dreams in fourth grade. Travelling the world was one of them.

A friend of mine brought up fourth grade on a call yesterday, and this was strangely one of my clearest memories. It made me wonder how much of the ‘benevolence’ we see today is performative, and how much of it is real.

But does it really matter if you’re being kind to be perceived as kind, or if you’re doing it solely out of goodwill? At the end of the day, you’re still being kind to someone; that’s what matters, right?

I decided to write a poem about it, and it didn’t end as I had originally expected it to.

But first things first…

I have a question

What’s the kindest thing someone has ever done for you without realising it?

Leave a comment

If I win the lottery, I will…

when i was in fourth grade,
my english teacher gave us a prompt to write about:
"if i win the lottery, i will..."
she asked students to voice their opinions, 
and is it funny how all of them said 
different versions of the same thing?
giving to the poor people,
giving to charity,
helping out the humans on the street.

perhaps that's what young love really is,
the idea of giving to other humans who deserve better;
and maybe every fourth grader goes into class
with a sprinkle of "i want to save the world" within.

when i got called on i slinked in my chair,
not because i didn't have an answer
but because it wasn't as selfless.
"yes, child?" the teacher prompted, 
and so i said it:
"i would go to australia."
so embarrassing and yet
is it funny that i'm the only one who fulfilled my statement?
maybe every fourth grader goes into class
with a sprinkle of "i want to save the world" within;
but it's okay to die saving only one person,
and it's okay if that one person was you.

Until we meet again,

— Project: Untitled

It’s been 988 days since the Hamas attacks on Palestine on October 7th, 2023. 988 days of just sitting here, watching. 988 days of simply doing…nothing. We know this is happening. We all do. And yet every act of resistance that is threatening enough is silenced. We are getting nowhere. And now, just spectating isn’t enough for me.

Ever since the 2023 escalation of this conflict, I’ve been desperately trying to keep up with the news, the updates. It’s my way of feeling…not helpless. I like every post, every reel, I read every article I stumble upon, and I know it’s not doing anything substantial. I mean, at the end of the day, can a hashtag truly change the world? What’s the point of accumulating information if I can’t use it? I’m aware that my likes, shares and reposts aren’t relieving the world, they’re just creating an illusion of action.

Every single day, my feed is filled with posts about the Palestinians. It’s become something I expect to see online. The topic is brought up at every dinner table, discussing possible solutions, sighing in distress when someone reveals a staggering statistic, staring at our plates as someone describes the brutal way Hind Rajab was killed. There will be a moment of silence, and then someone will glance up and say, “Can someone please pass the water?”

I remember the first of January, 2024. Here’s an excerpt from my diary from that very day:

As you can probably tell, there were a lot of thoughts in my head that day. ‘A new and fresh beginning’ was not one of them. Not by a long shot.

I remember the hours leading up to that moment. There was a family dinner, and it was a lazy day. My cousins and I were all on our phones, and somehow no one had the energy to plan a mini celebration for when the year resets. Our feeds were full of activists’ posts, our heads were full of thoughts that had no home.

It was when the needle of the clock had edged way too close to 12 for our comfort that we forced ourselves to do something.

I remember us collectively deciding to get coloured smoke bombs to light when it strikes twelve. We went to get it from a nearby store, where the manager was threatening to shut us inside simply because it had been five minutes past their closing time. We picked out the green and red coloured smoke bombs. In honour of Palestine, we said. And, back home on the roof, when our countdown arrived at the number one, amidst the haze of green and red, I remember thinking about how Palestinian smoke isn’t green and red, not really. It’s just mundane, toxic grey.

All eyes on Gaza, the posts shout. Don’t forget Palestine. I vow to myself every time that I won’t. I won’t forget. But what happens when I do? What then?

Whenever I find out about the casualties and fatalities of this war, my main thought isn’t “poor individuals,” — although that exists too — it’s “poor friends and family.” I barely know these people and yet I mourn their loss with them anyway. But really, deep down, I’m so afraid of the day I stop mourning, the day I stop crying, because what does that say about me? That I’m immune to this? I would rather be human than unfeeling.

It’s devastating how society has normalised their suffering. Nowadays, no one bats an eye at the flood of news we receive about this conflict; it’s just normal. It’s expected. But it shouldn’t be.

How can we normalise something so utterly violent? How can we normalise genocide?

Perhaps people are right when they say, “You’ll get used to it.” Because that’s exactly what’s been happening. We’ve gotten so used to the terror and suffering in this world, it doesn’t strike us as uncanny anymore.

I wish I could end this article with a list of actionable steps to stop this for once and for all, but I can’t. This article has no conclusion.

I want to have kids but I don’t. I don’t want to have kids but I do. I want my first child to desperately be a girl so I can break the “eldest daughter” trauma but I fear I could fail.

I will do right, I know I will. Or will I? Will I really?

When I picture my future home, I think sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling, talking to my husband while he stirs a wooden spoon in the simmering pot, and my firstborn daughter peeking from behind the walls when she was supposed to have gone to sleep hours ago. And I see her stumbling in her socks and look towards her, and she’ll smile in a “oops-just-got-caught” way, and I’ll just laugh and wave her over because I know. I know what it’s like to twist and turn in your bed, unable to succumb to sleep.

And I picture her sitting next to me on that very kitchen counter while her father yelps from fear that he’s burned his food and we’ll look at each other and giggle and say, “Men”, but she’ll know to believe in love, she’ll know to hope. She’ll look at her parents and think, “This is the kind of love I want.” She won’t ever have to parent the parents.

My husband will serve us a midnight meal in our favourite plates, the ones we painted together, and then he’ll lean back and look at both of us siting side by side, and his eyes will flick from her to me and back to her and he’ll whisper, “You are so much like your mother.”

Perhaps that’s where the sweet scene takes a turn, where I choke on my delicious food, and the flavour melts away into my tongue until I can’t taste it anymore. Because why would you compare her to me? And he’ll mean well of course, but I’m not sure if I can believe that would make it better.

I wan’t kids but I don’t want kids and I can’t find an end to this dilemma.

A life isn’t something you can gamble with. Feelings aren’t something you can coddle one day and leave to rot the other. I would say, being an eldest daughter, I have some experience in looking after others, and then my brain reminds me of the sick things I’ve done, those sudden flashes of cruelty that escape from the fortress I’ve been so desperately hiding. I cry into my pillow every time it happens.

And in the obscuring of light because of my face pressed into the pillow, I see a light. A light that shines on the head of another girl, one who looks like me but not quite, and her face too is shoved into her pillow, an image from years later maybe. It’s not that I think it’s a real vision, but it seems to strike too close to a reality I don’t want.

I know I wouldn’t hurt my daughter on purpose but what if I do? Maybe I’ll come to the realisation that my mother was never at fault and I can’t fix this and first children are just difficult to parent (but they aren’t they aren’t they aren’t I can’t give up).

There’s a certain responsibility that comes with having kids. They’re not asking to be bought into this world, that part is your choice. And so you should act like it. You should take care. You should make sure you don’t keep on inflicting hurt until you’ve made a replica of yourself, one that is so faulty so broken all because you thought you had it in yourself to do better than what parents have over the years. All because I hope.

I hope that it’s enough.

But I can already hear the wails of my future daughter, the ones she meant for me to hear and the ones she muffled into her pillow.

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I've always wanted curly hair,
but now I'm not so sure;
Perhaps the straight shouldn't go squiggly
as if it's easy to navigate.

I've always wanted curly hair,
but now I'm not so sure;
Every curly-head looks into the mirror
admiring what they have,
but then it's my turn 
and the vapour fogs the glass.

I've always wanted curly hair,
but now I'm not so sure;
Sometimes I wonder who I am 
behind the ringlets obscuring my face,
without the meaning they give.

I've always wanted curly hair,
but now I'm not so sure; 
The heat of the straightener betrayed me
when I desperately tried to fix it,
just as the swelter of the curler 
marked itself a traitor when all I wanted
was this.

I've always wanted curly hair,
but now I'm not so sure;
Maybe the intensity of the ache of longing
isn't equal to that of the quality of reward.

I've always wanted curly hair, 
but now I'm not so sure;
When the rivulets of black descend from my head,
are they the manifestation of what I asked for
or something too layered,
sprinkles upon the buttercream of my favourite cake?
Except it's not my favourite anymore -
didn't it give me cavities?

I've always wanted curly hair,
but now I'm not so sure;
All it does is twist and turn
and coil like the knots in my stomach,
and it won't untangle, 
it just won't untangle,
no matter how many times I brush through it.

I've always wanted curly hair,
but now I'm not so sure;
I want to be who I once was,
because the keratin is too expensive
and the mass on my head too frizzy.

I've always wanted curly hair,
though I must admit
I've always wanted to be in love,
but now I'm not so sure. 

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When I looked into the mirror, 
I thought "pretty",
but it was the her reflection that waved.
I smiled at her.

The trophy gleamed on the shelf
in the picture she'd posted online.
"That should've been here," I thought
and then pushed the thought aside.

I watched her from afar,
laughing with her best friend, 
her bob flying in the breeze.
I went to the hairdresser
and had them chop off my locks,
only to see she had grown hers.

I observed the way he looked at her
"Best friends," they told everyone;
but I knew, I always knew
that it wasn't me.
It would never be me.

Today, I look into the house next to mine.
The lawn is especially well-kept,
and wow, look at her water the flowers.

I suppose the grass is always greener
on the other side of the fence.

“I think his love language is acts of service,” one of my friends told me gravely, and I sighed. I’m not saying she’s wrong, of course. Terms such as ‘acts of service’ are important when it comes to understanding those who matter - but oftentimes they are used as a barrier, a protection, against the admission of rejection.

i) THE RISE OF RELATIONSHIP TAXONOMY

In the recent past, users on social media have created multiple classification terms to analyse relationships. While some may be based on legitimate psychological background, others do not have a credible leg to stand on. In a world where social media is pulling us apart and genuine human connection is a rarity, it is not entirely surprising that people have resorted to analysing whether or not their relationship is healthy.

One such categorisation method is the 5 love languages framework. Originating from the book “The 5 Love Languages” published in 1992 by Dr. Gary Chapman (marriage counselor, PhD adult education), which propose five primary ways humans express affection (words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, physical touch). This book has sold 20 million copies worldwide; it is not unexpected that these ideas wormed their way into social media. Other similar categories are also gaining popularity:

• The red flag/green flag framework

• The 3-3-3 dating rule

• Attachment styles (avoidant, anxious, secure)

• Astrology

• Timing

• “Healing journeys”

ii) LABELS AS EMOTIONAL BUFFER ZONES

Humans require labelling certain behaviours because it gives them a certain level of control in an unpredictable world. Saying “he’s the avoidant attachment type” or “Mercury is in retrograde” is largely easier than admitting “he doesn’t love me” or “this is not working out”. Sometimes such ideas help deepen understanding between two individuals; other times they are simply a way to avoid admitting that someone did not choose you. Maybe a person does care; however, the presence of compassion does not explain the absence of action.

iii) EXPLANATION VS OUTCOME

It is definitely true that such classification is helpful in certain contexts. Understanding the people you love and their expression of love is a deeply insightful way of guaranteeing an understanding relationship. Nevertheless, it is important to know that finding the reason for a particular outcome, does not change the outcome itself. It does not alter lived experience. At the end of the day, inaction is also an action, and you still experienced silence, inconsistency or lack of effort. You don’t deserve that, bestie.

It can also be said that complexity is seductive. We humans tend to reach for those star-shaped cookies cutters, their edges pointed enough to prick your fingers, rather than picking the nearby simple circle. We choose to impose the intricate interpretation rather than the simpler - and probably far truer - answer.

iv) LOVE IS A VERB

I think we forget this a lot: love is a verb, and a verb is used to describe what the subject is doing. It’s not just a feeling, and it’s not the butterflies in our stomachs. It is an act of will, choice and commitment.

Furthermore, I would like to mention that it is okay to use the aforementioned categorical terms to understand another human being; I just think it is unacceptable to use specific terms so you don’t have to face the cold, harsh truth. You can annotate relationships all you want, but eventually the blank spaces will begin to speak for themselves.

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I wish you were a devil;
then perhaps you'd have done something to blame,
something I could point my finger at and say,
"there."
At least then I'd have something to hold against you
instead of this never-ending stretch of silence.

I wish you were a devil;
because maybe it would explain your white lies,
how you came only to leave,
how you slipped between the cracks in our walls.

I wish you were a devil;
that way I'd know what to expect,
how to fight you off, 
how to let you walk out the door
instead of saying, "stay".

But most of all
I wish you were a devil
because then
maybe
you'd come
every time I spoke of you.

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Let me be the poem

and not the poet,

The healed

and not the healer,

The loved

and not the lover,

The understood

and not the understander.

Please

For once,

Let me be the star

and not the starstruck.