To my fine German friend:

Fine… I’m only happy because of all the material goodness in my life. The rest is a hollow shell. I feel hollow cause I am hollow.

I have hardly any good friends left. The few remaining ones I get to see perhaps only once a month if I’m lucky. More often I don’t get to see them for months on end.

Toby and I …. eish. still not happy. it’s not working. i’ve tried to break it off so many times but it just didn’t work.

he cheated on me.. many times. i forgive him constantly. why?? cause i’m afraid of being single. cause we have build a semi-decent life together (with my money).

i want to run away from myself. can one do that?

i constantly dream of being killed, or of dying. the last dream i had like that was where i hear a noise from the front door. i open it and it’s a thief who then stabs me in the neck.

it hurt briefly but then it was bliss; i’m dead with no more responsibilities or tasks waiting on me. no more sadness. that sounds divine.

sorry.i just had to write to you. i know you’ll understand. or, i hope you’ll understand.



I’m awake


It’s Saturday 16 February, 9 days before pay day and I woke up at 5:30am. Well, I didn’t wake up this early because I’m excited that pay day is one day closer, no, sir. I normally wake up this early on a Saturday because of butterflies in my tummy: I’m gonna see my darling.

Today is different. I thought I heard someone outside the flat. I’m paranoid like that. But I became like this for a reason. I suffered 3 break ins in 2006/07.

The first time was rather funny. I got home one Sunday afternoon and noticed the DVD player is gone. I call Toby. “Hey. The DVD Player is gone. Did you take it?” I ask him. “No, why would I do that? We’ve got a DVD Player.” he says.

Now I’m perplexed. If one stays on the 6th storey, you feel rather immune to the ravages of the outside world, and this includes being burgled. Who would honestly want to scale up your building, only to take a single item? But it happened, so it has to be someone.

The second time it happened, wasn’t funny. I got home at 2am to find out that my laptop, tv set, DVD player were gone. I didn’t hesitate calling my then flatmate. “Jou ma se ****!” I shouted at him. Over and over again, I insulted him. It could not have been anyone else who took the stuff. I locked the damn security gate and there was no fucking sign of forced entry.

The third time was fucking scary. I was living with Asanda and was alone in the flat that morning when I woke up at about 4am. I still thought to myself: “Cool, now I can finish Half of a Yellow Sun!” Alas, that didn’t quite happen that morning. I didn’t wake up by myself; I actually awoke from some rather strange noises in the flat.

I was thinking to myself what to do and worried they’ll come into the bedroom. Well, I didn’t have to worry they’ll do it; they had already been inside the bedroom by that stage. The bastards took all my stuff, which were in the corner, and they threw about half of it in the lounge. They didn’t touch Asanda’s stuff. They took fuckall of hers, only my stuff. I lost memories that day. I lost my funky Swarovski earrings, which I treasured immensely. They were one of a fucking kind, those earrings. Very similar to my skanky red shoes, these earrings were so very unique, I’d be complemented about them on a daily basis. No one else had them. Or rather, no one else had ever seen earrings like those. My heart was broken. Is broken.

My not so intelligent friend, Beatrice, reckons Asanda asked some of her friends to do it. I mean, why would they not steal any of her stuff? Why only mine?

So. What did I learn from all these incidents?

  1. Insurance companies are stupid. I claimed for much more than just a DVD player.
  2. Insurance companies are stupid. I claimed for much more than just a DVD player, tv set and a laptop. Do not trust people who are substance abusers (my now ex flatmate). Just don’t.
  3. Insurance companies are clever. I claimed for too much and lost my insurance cover. Don’t crash at a friend/frenemy’s place too long.

I’m gonna fucking vomit in my mouth right fucking now. It’s such a pity she isn’t even skinny, otherwise I could call her The Stick Figure With No Soul. Let’s just call her Natasha, we might as fucking well.

She and Toby are boyfriend and girlfriend. Have been since early January already, which was when Victor and I were still conducting a long distance thingy…

She kept her profile hidden from public view for a loooooong time. See, I’m a crazy stalker woman. She needed to keep her personal life hidden from me when I found out he is cheating on me with her. I went as far as to log into Toby’s Gmail account and read their gchats live. I was also able to log into (or is it onto?) his Facebook account. This is how I got her telephone number. So one day, I was at work (the one that fired me, or, rather, forced me to resign) and was having fun reading their inane little gchat convo. Well, it was fun reading it until she promised she’ll call him from work. So I did what any self-respecting girlfriend would do: I phoned her and screamed at her to fucking stop calling him. LOL.

She could be my twin sister. We look similar; I’m just prettier, of course. And skinnier. And cleverer. Although not as much as I used to be. And it pisses me off – Toby always used to complain about my weight and about my curly hair… And now she is possibly 20 kilos heavier than me (fucking massive arms…OMG) and she’s got curly kroesies. Someone pass me a bucket, please?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

So. I think what pisses me off the most is that they went to Kirstenbosch some weeks back (or is it ago?). He never wanted to go with me… And he already introduced her to his brother and cousin. That’s a fucking big deal to him. Good grief! Her status updates are enough to make one puke, especially me. She’s the fucking reason Toby called it quits. Fine, she’s the reason I called it quits. The fucking cow has 1700-odd wall messages.

Argh. The weirdest thing is that I’d love to be friends with her… I know, I’m fucked up. Totally and completely and utterly and whatnotnot. In fact, I’ve got a slight crush going on… argh. It’s a thin line between love and hate, right? Corny but true.

I’ll have to brace myself for the inevitable: seeing them together some day, holding hands and being all fucking lovey-dovey. It’s gonna happen.

Let’s hope my crush has worn off by then so that I can give her a good old klap when I meet/see her.

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Gareth called me some weeks ago. I was surprised to hear from him again. We haven’t really been in contact and he rarely responds to my sms’s.

I was in Exclusive Books, reading some material on How to tame one’s man, or something like that. He phoned me and I accepted the call, wondering what he could possibly want to talk about.

It seems he got cheated on by his by now ex-girlfriend. He sounded all teary and I almost felt sad for him. This is the guy I thought was so perfect for me. We spoke for over half an hour, which is funny, considering he didn’t even try to tempt me into visiting him at his flat during the entire conversation. He seemed genuinely sad about his ex-girlfriend’s cheating ways.

Which made me wonder: should I change my ways? What amount of bad Karma am I getting by cheating with other womens’ husbands, boyfriends? Why do I not feel as guilty as I should? Am I destined to always be the other woman?

I don’t want to, that’s for sure. Gareth even told me to stop doing what I’m doing. Not that I’m doing much, actually! Well, I plan to, but don’t always follow through. Besides, emotional cheating is actually as bad as physical cheating. That’s why I broke it off with Toby. He was cheating on me, even though it was emotionally. I found pictures and emails and sleazy Facebook messages all the time. True, I shouldn’t have been snooping, but … I was suspicious. Where there’s smoke…

My problem is that I like being bad/naughty/evil. And I condone infidelity, as long as you don’t get caught. But a small part of me wants to be faithful to Victor. Fuck, I’m getting old.