My story on Wattpad

Hey guys,

Check out my story on Wattpad, just joined and having fun writing. Are you a member? Let me know what you think about this social media platform?

So far I am just experiencing with the writer in me and the stories, but I found there is actually a poetry section. Who knew?

I will be taking a summer break, be back in September.

Enjoy your summer.

Follow me on Instagram for my story and adventure in real life as I explore Greece.


Take care of your heart and soul. They are precious.


Much love,

Chrissy xx

Click on link below:



I was burning something
(I think the meat sauce)
as I wrote that short
story that I suck at writing.
I don’t believe in
short stories
short cuts
short fuses.
In a long line up
I read urban
dictionaries for
the fun of it.
If I don’t make you
nod your head
at my flakiness
then you do not
know me yet
nor do you want to.
My sense of humour
is on the tip of my tongue
as it lands in your mouth
and you catch
the innuendoes
dark humour

Hence my really short story:
Once there was a boy
who called me every night
as I sat on my green carpet
twirled the telephone wire
as I played song after song
holding the phone
in the air. Of course, he
did the same. Trying to
outdo me; he wrote
me the most beautiful
card, with two tickets
to a rock show.
In English class,
he shared my book
and we read Romeo
and Juliet in unison.
He liked to call me
and tell me bullshit
stories about love
and rock songs.

I love your energy, he said
and so I asked him
to go to the show.
He said he was busy
and the very next day
he asked out Anne.

Twenty-five years later
he remembers the dance
at my party
Remember when we grinded, Chrissy?
Fucking prick, I thought.
I remember everythingI said and suddenly he shut up.
Everyone at the table
looked at me,
I could be dramatic like that.

Sophie winked, and Daniel smiled.

New boys
that everyone wants
and can never have,
that was Andre,
and if he reads this now
who gives a fuck?

No one could hold on to him
because we were similar
like that
Yet not.
My short story became a poem
I wouldn’t submit anywhere
who has the will
to drive down a new road
of detours and disappointments?

A real short story

I should have known he was bad news by the way he flipped his hair. Of course, no one listens to their instincts at a time like that. The Smiths were playing so I will blame it on the moment that he said the right words at the right time when I needed to hear them most. He had a way of throwing adjectives at me that made my insides quiver. Reciting Ezra Pound and e.e. cummings was my downfall. He knew the significance of matter.  I should have said I was a hairdresser. What lies would fall out then? Streaks of passion?
The end becomes the beginning again.