About emotionalpyromaniac

A 20-something former Fashion student with her heart on her sleeve, who's not afraid to explore her dark side and tries to inject a bit of humour in everything she does.


It hurts sometimes.

To know that I’m not enough for you. That I’ll probably never be enough; to make you stop, to make you see me, to make you want to be with me. I try to put it out of my mind and most of the times it works. But then I’ll hear a song; the guitar strings twinge and cause a pang in my heart. I’ll hear a specific set of words; the sound of them brushing past will remind me of something you once whispered in my ear. Or I’ll see someone that reminds me of you and I’ll look away; avert my eyes so they don’t see the longing in them.

Sometimes I think your only goal in life is self-sabotage and I wonder why you feel like you need to bring yourself harm. You hide it under the guise of something that you need to do for yourself but when given the choice, who chooses to be a tortured soul above being loved? Being wanted? I want to tell you that I know you’re unhappy deep down inside but what do I know? After all, I thought I could make you happy, didn’t I? And I failed. Obviously.

Maybe it’s all in my head. The happiness we were once able to bask in together. I’m always afraid of being hurt but if I’m truly honest with myself, I fully expect, nay, accept that I will get hurt, no matter the circumstances. Isn’t that sad? What was that about not choosing to be a tortured soul?

Yeah, I contradict myself sometimes. A lot of times actually. I say, “I love being single” but one moment in his arms has me thinking of never having to be alone again. I say I’ll always put friends before family because I’ve been hurt by the latter time and time again. But the moment I look into her eyes, a part of me collapses in shame for never wanting to understand why she was the way she was. 

I say a lot of things, I think a lot of things too.

It hurts sometimes. To know that I’m not enough.


Somebody Call the Waahhmbulance: My Lethargy is Killing Me

Why can’t I get past all these mental barriers? Why do I suddenly become an insecure mess at the most inopportune moments? Writing, work, relationships with others; when I should be the most confident, I freeze. I choke.

I’m at a standstill.

I want to do better and I know I could do better but the lack of motivation is crushing. It literally feels like a pillow being pressed against my nose and mouth in the dead of the night. It’s asphyxiating. I focus on the little things, the inconsequential. I rather lay in bed day-dreaming and fantasizing than putting any of my talent or efforts to good use.

Whenever I’m done writing a post I’m on top of the world, compliments abound and I feel invincible. When I accomplish a personal or professional goal I feel exhilarated. I just have to continue ‘following my dreams’ and soon I’ll become the best I can be. When I’m in his arms I feel like the most desirable woman on earth. I scoff at my insecurities because I’m ‘That Bitch’.

But then I get home. I flip on the TV or flip open my laptop. I take my pants off get comfortable and then…nothing. I don’t want to do anything and I worry about everything. I’m not who I want to be, not even close.

Maybe I should get started on that blog post…

God, it’ll probably suck and I’ll have to take hours to edit it and in the end it still won’t be as good as any of the other writers…

I should be more pro-active at work. I’m already taking courses that (I hope) will help me in the long run, maybe I should take on more tasks, network more, mingle with my coworkers…

It hasn’t even been a year yet, besides, I’m just a lowly receptionist. Who cares about me and my ‘Career Advancement’?

Maybe I should call him. Tell him how I feel about him. Ask him all those questions that gnaw at my soul every time we’re together…

I shouldn’t be so damn needy. I’ll just push him away. And what if I don’t like the answers to those questions, what then?

I know I’m being stupid. I know I’m being ridiculous. I know I’m holding myself back. But there you have it.

It is what it is, I guess.

How To Not Be An Awful Person

written by: Why Yes I Have A Stick Up My Ass, Why Do You Ask?


Not Michael Jackson Bad. Well, maybe a little.

Ever since I got my first job at 16, I’ve always assumed the role of some sort of ‘Customer Service Representative’. While the job title may not have always been the same, the understanding remained that I would be getting paid to be shat on by humanity for 40 hours a week. A quiet particle of truth settled onto my consciousness that first day on the job and quickly grew into a big, fat, ugly elephant in the room over the next 5 years.

You guise, people are awful.

Now, I’m certainly not perfect (far from it!) but I have an almost pathological need to please others. I’ve been called “too nice” on more than one occasion and you know what? It’s never been said in an “Oh, thanks so much for your help, you’re too nice!” sort of way either, it’s always said in a tone of voice that very clearly stands for “WHAT is wrong with you? You’re way too nice.”

For years this irked me. After all, how can being ‘too nice’ or ‘too good’ of a person ever be a bad thing? Well I finally got the memo; people are awful and will continue to be awful and my unending need to be nice and love everyone will result in my tragic, yet not completely unexpected death.

So before I die (probably due to murder-suicide after I pick up yet another call that begins with **”I’m calling long distance and I’m tired of being put on hold!”), I thought I’d try my hand at making the world a slightly less toxic place in my wake (you’re welcome).

1. Be Considerate of Others:

Ok, this is a major problem guys. Guys? Are you listening to me? Yes? Not really? Good enough.


You know those things that walk around, all breathing and living and shit, that kinda look like you, except a little uglier? Yeah, THOSE ARE OTHER PEOPLE. You have to co-exist with these people, so try not to be such an insufferable douche, ok?

Please understand that sometimes – most of the times, even – your actions have direct consequences not only on you but on others as well. So when you leave your dirty laundry to fester for 3 months and then decide to do it all the day your mom is coming to visit and have to take up 2 out of the 3 machines available to use for a building of 100 or so other tenants? NOT COOL. What if MY mom is coming over and I want to show her I’m not a total slob too? Well guess what? I CAN’T because that 3rd machine doesn’t work. You dick.

2. Be Honest (with yourself and others):

I know some of you think lying is a thing you do to keep from hurting others’ feelings but that’s actually a lie in and of itself so you should stop right now because your J Brand jeans are on fire, asshole.

People aren’t ~fragile snowflakes~ that can’t handle the truth. Of course there’s a time and place for everything. I’m not saying you should greet your co-workers every morning with “Hey, I hate your guts. Also, I want your job” but if someone asks you straight up whether or not you’re single, don’t be a jerk about it and tell them the truth. It’s as simple as that. People try to make everything so complicated but the truth of the matter is, whenever you’re lying to someone, you’re doing it to save yourself grief, or make yourself look good or whatever other selfish reason. Point is, it’s just that: selfish. Don’t be that person. People will love you dearly for it.

3. Love Yourself:

As my fairy Godmother RuPaul would say, “Honey, if you don’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?”. Well, you can’t. You’re going to internalize your pain and become so consumed with misery that’ll you’ll start projecting it onto everybody else and soon they’ll become the people you hate. I’m not in Maxim’s Top 100 Hottest Chicks but I am pretty damn comfortable in my skin. Maybe that’s why I feel no need or desire to go up to random strangers in the street and say “OMG, eat a sandwich!” or “You really should put that down. It’ll probably make it easier for you to book seats on a plane.” You know what that’s called? Concerntrolling. The imperative word being TROLL. You do not give a fuck what that person eats or what life choices they’ve made or what health and/or mental condition they may have that makes them look the way they do. You just want to gleefully point out that they do not fit your standards and they should be ashamed. You are wrong. YOU should be ashamed. And also have your head examined. And also get glasses. Because I’m pretty sure anyone thinner than you is not anorexic, anyone heavier than you is not morbidly obese and you cannot judge a whole person’s life by their appearance. You. Don’t. Know. Shit.

4. Be Understanding:

Seriously, it’s not that hard to put yourself in another person’s shoes. All you have to do is take a half second and imagine yourself going through exactly what they’re going through (or what you’re putting them through). Did you just think ‘shit that sucks’? Boom, EMPATHY. This slightly differs from sympathy (English 101, you guise). Sympathy is feeling bad for the victim of the ‘Florida Zombie Killer’ and for what his friends and family must be going through; NOT posting Zombie-Apocolypse jokes all over the fucking internet. This is not 9Gag, this is real life. Have a heart. Realize that people all over the world are suffering, don’t pile on to the shit-i-tude of their lives by being a shitty person, m’kay?

5. Keep Your Word:

I cannot stress this enough. SAY WHAT YOU MEAN AND MEAN WHAT YOU SAY! Yes, I already said don’t lie, but I honestly think some people say things without thinking about it and then are just too lazy or don’t care or forget that someone, somewhere is depending on them. Look, “I’ll call you later” is not “bye”. No matter how much you want it to be, it’s just not. So can we all just agree not to say those 4 words unless we mean it? ‘Cause that look of shock and horror I get when a dude realizes I’m upset because I actually took him on his word and waited by my phone all night is getting increasingly awkward. Would you tell your kid brother that you’re so proud of him getting straight A’s all year you’re going to take him to EB Games and get him any 3 games he wants, drive him over there, buy the games and then promptly smash them all over the sidewalk just to see the sad, sad look on his face? Yes? Well then I cannot help you sir. But if not, that’s how you make people feel every time you blow them off, flop on them or otherwise break a promise.


This is by no means a comprehensive list but if you adhere to these 5 tips, I assure you, you can be my friend. Which really is the only point of living, isn’t it? Well, that and Gossip Girl.

**Ok, if you’re one of these people. STOP IT RIGHT FUCKING NOW. Please take a moment to closely examine the level of entitlement you must have as a person to actually believe that it is the responsibility of the company you chose to call that you are paying for long distance/using up the minutes on your phone. Listen. If you are calling a business, there are HUNDREDS OF OTHER PEOPLE CALLING AS WELL. As such, there is a HIGH LIKELIHOOD that you will have to wait (sometimes an inordinate amount of time!) before someone picks up that can finally help you (or not). THEY GIVE ALL OF ZERO FUCKS where you’re calling from or how. If you don’t want to pay extra or use up any of your precious 150 FIDO Daytime Minutes, here is a very reasonable list of things you can do;

Borrow a phone. Preferably from someone not as broke-ass as you.

Have 50 cents? Use a pay phone.

Don’t call. No seriously, don’t.

Go fuck yourself.

New Pair of Shoes

This is a little something I wrote today representing what Fashion means to me. It’s a little more ‘cutesy’ than my typical style but anyone who knows me, knows that Fashion is my boyfriend!


I am happiest in a new pair of shoes.

Towering platform heels render me high for days. I’ll positively stomp it out in a great pair of knee-high boots. A comfy flat makes me feel like I can do no wrong.

I am at my best in a great dress. A feisty mini gives me all of the confidence of a minx. Give me an LBD and I’ll give you my best Katherine Hepburn. An adorable fit and flare keeps me prim and proper.

I wouldn’t feel complete without accessories. A plethora of bangles along my forearm makes sure I get noticed. I love to make a statement with an over-the-top cocktail ring. Diamonds are a woman’s best friend but for a girl on a budget, a cute rhinestone headband is sure to catch anyone’s eye. Whether I carry a dependable tote, a sleek new clutch or this season’s hottest handbag, my purse is the cherry on top of the fashion sundae.

Like so many others, Fashion is my life. My clothes are as much a part of me as my arms and legs. I have a visceral reaction to seeing a beautifully dressed man or woman. I see the world in blocks of colour, artfully draped fabric and uniquely designed shapes and proportions.

If anything, this piece should tell you that I carry my fashion well and my heart on my sleeve.

Oh, and I will always and forever be happiest in a new pair of shoes.

Gone in 60 seconds…

…and by “Gone” I mean wasted.

This recount of my most embarrassing moment is a combination of fractured, alcohol-soaked memories and bits and pieces as told by a couple of my former colleagues.

This happened 2 years ago. A girl at the office was throwing a Christmas party at her place and had invited a bunch of us to come including my boyfriend and I. Thing is, I had broken up with my boyfriend of almost 2 years just that past month (over some stupid shit as mentioned in a previous blog post). I had sufficiently made him regret it by showing up at the office Christmas party that same week looking like Hot Shit so I assure you, there were no hard feelings (for me, anyway). However, it was still taking our co-workers a considerable amount of time to get it through their heads that we were BROKEN UP. That being said, in attending this soiree I definitely felt like I had something to prove. I wasn’t *Derek’s girl anymore. I was Me, plain and simple.

It was BYOB and back then I had a strong taste for Smirnoff Ice. Unfortunately, since I had to work late that day, all liquor stores were closed by the time I was ready to leave so without thinking, I opted for a much cheaper alternative at the nearest corner store.


To my chagrin, I was one of the first people there. I also wasn’t particularly close to anyone either; they were all mostly friends of Derek and I felt like I had to keep up the appearance of being happy and care-free after my break-up. Party at your place? Sure, why not? We’re friends right? Right?! Needless to say, my social anxiety was in overdrive.

Pretty soon, the host had initiated some type of word-associated board game. In between turns, I took the opportunity to swig back my first bottle as fast and as inconspicuously as I could.

A few facts;

i. I weigh about the same as a fruit fly. Consequently, my tolerance for alcohol is next to zero.

ii. Alcohol purchased at a corner store has been found to contain the extremely efficient and mind-bending drug called Abnormally Shitfaced.

iii. Even normal alcohol causes me to experience hightened levels of drunkeness at a speed that most people cannot even compute.

The last thing I can tell you that I personally remember is that I swear I barely even got through one bottle…

List of things I did according to my ex, his friends and former colleagues;

1. Immediately began to throw myself at the biggest, burliest dude there. And by that I mean I literally threw myself on to his lap and viciously tried to make-out with him. My ex was sitting right next to us. This was on a tiny, cramped, 2-seat sofa.

2. Thought it would be HILAR to try to tickle someone’s balls (albeit, through his jeans) with my toes. It was not.

3. Cornered my friend’s cousin after he rejected my advances by saying I couldn’t “handle” him and insisted he let me proceed in the VERY SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENT of grabbing his junk so that I may assess this for myself.

4. Just in case nobody was aware, felt it was necessary to proclaim that nobody who wanted to get in my pants could get in my pants because the fact is, only I can fit in my pants. *Insert maniacal laughter*

5. Enlisted the help of 3 girls to help me try to remember how to throw up, after which I would magically sober up. Obviously.

6. Passed out cold on the couch before being woken up and taken home by my ex who everyone had decided since Minute One was responsible for my well-being. Yeah, mission to reinstate position as Independent, Single Woman – Failed.

7. Erm, slept with my ex and sobbed hysterically the whole time.

List of things I did according to the host of the party;

1. Nothing, as I was perfectly fine and pleasant the entire night and did not stand out, at least to her knowledge, at all.


*      *      *

There you have it. My most embarrassing moment. It was also my greatest lesson learned. It suffices to say I care a lot less about what people think about me and don’t use alcohol as a form of self-medication anymore. To this day I’m not entirely sure what in the everlasting fuck caused me to act so completely out of character that night but I’m just glad this didn’t happen much later in life and in waaayyy less forgivable circumstances.

 Remember kids, alcohol and self-doubt don’t mix!

Random Fact.

How-To-Draw-a-Bleeding-Heart Tutorial

I didn't draw this - My hearts were cooler.

I’ve always been the type of person to be too easily impressed. I fall in love with people very easily, whether it be romantic or platonic. If I meet someone I really dig, I feel the need to let them know this immediately, for fear that if I don’t, I might miss my chance and they’ll go away never knowing how I feel.

When I was little (about 7 or so), I used to give pictures of hearts I’d drawn to people I really liked as a gesture of friendship. I thought it was really cute…except that these were dying hearts covered in deep gashes and lacerations with veins pumping out thick, vascuous blood that dripped down to form a pool of blood in the shape of the words “I Love You”.

I always thought that the people I gave these to were genuinely excited and maybe a little touched but I realize now that my drawings were probably regarded with about as much polite “enthusiasm” as a dead, headless bird your cat dragged in for you as a “present”.

Needless to say, I’ve found a healthier way to show people how much I like them.

New Year’s Resolutions

Hey guys,

I know it’s been forever since I’ve written a post. I just feel really uninspired at the moment. This city is still so new to me and I feel so discombobulated, what with getting settled into a new job, frantically searching for an apartment and trying to focus on my health and keeping fit.

Anyways, I just wanted to apologize for the huge gap between posts and decided to just take on my writer’s block head on and write about whatever came to mind.

Since it is officially 2012, I guess I should talk about my New Year’s Resolutions. Let me start by saying, I am SO OVER the whole New Year’s Resolutions craze; I personally believe we should always be in a state of self-improvement!

But I digress, here are my top 5 New Year’s Eve Resolutions!

1. Blog Regularly


2. Dine Out Less

Ok, I literally look like I weigh two pounds yet if you were to make a pie chart (Lulz, see what I did thar?) of how my brain works, “Thinking About Food” would make up about 75% of my brain activity.  I shit you not. I am either in a state of hungry, full, thinking of my next meal, thinking of my last meal, cooking my current meal, etc. Unfortunately the same pie chart would apply to my wallet and about 75% of my money goes to eating out. I seriously cannot eat home cooked meals everyday. It’s fucked up, I know, but I’m absolutely addicted to take-out!

3. Find an Apartment

Finding an apartment in Toronto is hard y’all. The prices are ridiculous compared to Montreal and the application process is straight up rigorous at times. Anyways, I’m still working on this. I came so close to finding a place and the land lady liked me and another applicant so much, she had to flip a coin to choose. Needless to say, Tails is not my lucky side. FML.

4. Workout Regularly

Even though I don’t even pass the basest adult human qualification of weighing at least 3 digits (to be fair, I’m quite short), it’s probably not the smartest idea for my only workout to come from clubbing on weekends. I’m really not a gym person though, I secretly laugh at joggers and I can’t swim. Last november, as sort of a joke, I took a Pole Fitness class and freaking LOVED IT. I’ve been doing it semi-quasi regularly ever since. I’ve reached somewhat of an intermediate level but I really want to push myself and see if I can actually become pro (as in competition level, not as a stripper – more Cirque Du Soleil, less ‘Diiamond Luv’).

5. Explore everything Toronto has to offer

The one thing I regret about living in Montreal for so long was that even though I lived there for all of 10 years, I always felt like I had just moved there a year or two ago. Kind of like moving in to a home and never really unpacking. I never actually opened my heart to the city and explored it. Granted, it probably wasn’t really my type of city. Even though my entire family is 100% french, I identify as full-fledged Anglophone so the absolute distaste and full on hate in some parts for english speaking people really affected me and I could never understand it. I have a number of other reasons as to why I’m glad to be out of there and I just don’t want to make the same mistake here even if it’s just out of laziness. I am definitely loving Toronto so far and I want to make it a point to see as much of it as I can and meet people along the way. It gets pretty lonely when the only people you really know is the girl you live with and your co-workers.

And that’s it it! My New Year’s Resolutions, what are yours? BTW, 43things.com is kind of a cool way to mark down your resolutions and keep track of them, you also get lots of feedback and encouragement from the other users!