Empathy

Empathy is defined as “the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.”

Were you able to understand how I felt when I opened my heart to you? Or were you too busy shredding me of every bit of dignity I had left?

You did care about me, but only until you weren’t allowed to. You did love me, until the whispers in your ear commanded you not to.

I could feel the pain in your eyes when you left me, but in the end you chose your reputation over me.

If I only I could see through those deep brown eyes of yours who you really are. On the surface, you are a laid-back gentleman with a big heart that everyone gets along with. Underneath that guise, however you are much more in terms with your inner demons than you are willing to accept.

When you commit yourself to someone, you also commit yourself to their mind, heart and soul. When I committed myself to you, I felt a connection to every part of you. Even when I discovered that dark side of you that you will not uncover to maintain that image that you have, I loved you. I could feel that, beneath that layer, there was goodness buried within.

For that reason, I tolerated that side of you that would belittle my feelings and scream and curse at me in public until you made me cry. People would ask why I stay and call you verbally abusive, and I would always defend you whether you were present or absent. I would have liked to imagine it was the same for me. No matter what, I always saw you through rose-colored glasses, and maybe that good self you showed me during the year and a half we were together was a part of the real you.

Regardless, it does not negate the fact that you did not feel the same empathy I had for you during and after our relationship. You had broken many promises the day you left, and you continued to do so afterward. Everything I confided you with that you swore you would take the grave is now out in the open in spite of the fact that I still keep all of your secrets to myself for your sake, you have made it painstakingly obvious that you do express the same concern for how I am doing while I often wonder about your well-being despite everything that has happened between us, and you decided to give me a final stab to the back by saying that I exaggerate my trauma and use it to get attention. You know what the fuck I went through and how it still has an effect on me, yet you still turned it into a joke on social media with your friends.

After all of that, I repressed the pain I felt from your betrayal and cruel words because I felt it was deserved, even if I had given you empathy that you did not reciprocate in the end.

I was not perfect, but I did everything I could to withhold many things I wanted to say to you and protected you from the cruel words of others for your benefit. When you are blessed with empathy toward one’s feelings, you are also cursed with remaining blind to their poor treatment toward you because of all the excuses you have made for them.

I held these feelings in for too long to refrain from hurting your feelings even if you did not spare me the same pain, but in doing so I have kept myself from understanding my own feelings. As I continue to grant you empathy, I deny myself any. So I will continue to write about you until my fingertips tire of doing so.

How do you live in the present when your mind is still in the past?

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Enigma 

I hold my paintbrush as I try to perfectly capture your essence, but instead I am left with a blank canvas.

I tap my fingers on my keyboard as I attempt to find the right words to depict my emotions for you, but instead I am left with a blank document. 

Who are you? 

You are a palette of mystery. You are an enigma no words can describe. 

I write because I can confidently express myself from my fingertips without my shyness causing me to choke on my words. I paint because of how effortless it is to convey my repressed emotions through shapes and colors. 

Yet when it comes to you, I cannot properly communicate what you make me feel through any medium. 
 

Taking It Slow

I have never been great at taking it slow.

When you have anxiety, patience is not in your vocabulary. You must always be active in order to maintain inner peace. You cannot sit still for more than a few seconds without feeling like you need to be doing something. Stillness leads to being alone in your mind, and being alone in your mind means that it can race on and on, and there is nothing you can do to catch up with all those thoughts you’re having. When it comes to anxiety, there is no relaxation or tranquility, just your mind running on as your heart races and you experience shortness of breath just trying to keep up with it. Your mind is moving at the speed of light, and you can try to catch up but no matter how hard you try your brain will be miles ahead. Still I do my best to keep up with the constant train of thoughts my brain generates throughout the day, good and bad.

Speed can be beneficial in many situations, but there are also times where you may be advised to take it slow. Whether it’s someone who is trying to complete too many tasks at once, or experiencing a new relationship, or mourning the loss of a loved one, the phrase “take it slow” is constantly told to us. There is no right pace to move at so long as you do not try to move at an unrealistically fast pace when attempting to complete more tasks than you can handle in one day or expect to quickly grow accustomed to someone who played a major role in your life no longer being a part of it. As Confucius once said, “It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”

I have many goals set for myself, and I often find myself striving to achieve them all at once. I know that I have a long life ahead of me to complete them all, and I will come across many more goals I want to set for myself, yet I tend to hear this imaginary timer go off in my head as I remind myself of how much work needs to be done to achieve my goals. This imaginary timer convinces me that I have failed because I am already at this stage in my life and have achieved so little compared to others my age. Time is valuable, and before I know it thirty years will pass and I will be in my fifties grasping onto hope that I will at least accomplish something before I die. I fear if I don’t reach any of my goals now, I never will.

While I am overcoming that fear, I am still fighting the mindset I have of “now or never” when it comes to most goals. That mindset has been prevalent during the moving on process from my ex-boyfriend.

One piece of advice I have received when it came to coping with my break-up was to take as much time as I needed. Feel what I need to feel. Cry, miss him, hate him, grieve, feel relieved, reflect, look forward instead of back, think about him, occupy myself with other things, do whatever it takes to move forward. It could take weeks, months, and even years. Regardless of how horribly he treated me in the end of the relationship and how things ended between us, this man played a significant role in my life and I had been deeply in love with him. As unnatural as it feels to still be reminded of him and long for his presence at times when we have not spoken or seen each other for two months, it is in fact a normal part of the moving on process. Even when I reach that stage of full acceptance and finally move on, he will always remain in my heart and certain songs or places will always remind me of him.

Moving on from an ex-lover is not something that can be done in a day, especially if it is someone that you spend every weekend with for a year and a half, shared some of your best memories with, changed for the better for, and built a sense of trust and intimacy with. It does not help if you had promised to spend your life together and had come to believe that they were the one.

One thing that my ex-boyfriend and I had believed was that we would never be able to replace each other. We had always said no matter what happened between us, we would never be able to love someone else like we loved each other and we would never be able to relive what we had for each other. That is true in a sense where I will never be able to fall in love with him again. A part of me will always love him, but after the way things ended and what I came to learn about him after we broke up, I will never be able to look at him the same or love him as I once did. Whenever I do fall for someone else, I will not love them for the same reasons I loved my ex-boyfriend. They may have some of the same attributes that I loved him for, but they will not be exactly like him at all. I also will not be as naïve or as tolerant of some behaviors as I was with him. My ex-boyfriend and I had some good times together, and he did have his good attributes, but in the end, the bad outweighed the good too much to maintain a happy and healthy relationship. This was a fact that I refused to accept when he broke up with me, but it is something I have come to accept as a fact on my own.

We were not meant to be. We were not compatible. He was not the one.

I have come to accept that. I have also come to accept that if he showed up on my front porch begging for me back, I would decline. As hard as it would be for me to look into those big brown eyes of his that would once be hard for me to resist and say no, I cannot see us getting back together and being genuinely as happy as we once were. It could start off that way, but we would soon fall into the same rhetoric of explosive arguments and toxicity as we did the last few months of our relationship. If his anger issues and tendency to allow his friends to make his decisions as well as let them speak and treat me however they wanted did not change in the time we were still together, there is no doubt that it still has not changed. Old habits die hard.

Even with reaching the acceptance stage that we are not meant for each other, I still have not reached a point of saying with confidence that I have fully moved on. In spite of feeling as though I did throughout last month, the transition into the new year was my reality check that moving on does truly require taking it slow. The faster I move, the more likely I will fall once I am hit with a reminder of him that triggers those emotions toward him I still have buried deep with in that I have not yet dealt with.

Taking it slow will also become crucial when facing possible feelings I may have for someone new. I had met someone last month who stood out to me not only because of his appearance, but also because he had let off positive vibes and we had quite a bit in common. There was just something that drew me to him. I plan to get to know him better, and I plan to practice “taking it slow” as I am trying to do with the moving on process. In do so, I will not only be able to get to know this person and determine whether or not I want to give it a shot, I can also continue to have my focus on moving on so that if something ever does come out of this, I can know that I am moved on and not just rushing into something new. I do not believe he is just a rebound crush, I just do not want to take a step I am not sure that I am ready for.

I have never been great at taking it slow, but it is important to do so in order to maintain healthy relationships with others and with myself.


Announcements:

1. For the next week, I will be releasing a blog or two each day. These are blogs I have written but never posted, ideas I had but never posted, or posts I have started but never finished. It’s not a series in a sense where they all relate to each other, I just wanted to start getting more of my writing out there since I have a lot of free time this month and I am starting to write more again after dealing with a block for a few months. I will say though, that while I did not really go into detail about the bad day here, you can the events of it mentioned in some of my blog posts I will be posting throughout the week.

2. I still have not forgotten about the book I have been writing, About Last Night. I am still working on getting the preview done as there are still edits to be made, but I expect the preview to be out this month. Once I have finished and put my preview on Amazon, I will post it to my blog and my Facebook page, Lisa Speaks Out.

You can read the description for About Last Night here:

https://lisaspeaksout.wordpress.com/2017/09/07/about-last-night-release-date/

3. Finally, I do tend to be very open in my writing about issues some have deemed as “too personal”, the reason being that one of the purposes of my blog and my writing is to release these thoughts and emotions I have held in or been silenced from sharing all my life. As a writer, I understand that I will receive negative feedback here and there, it happens to even the greatest and most professional of writers. Anyone who wants to put their creativity out there has to deal with not-so constructive criticism from people who will leave reviews and comments that are cruel. Part of being so passionate about what you do is accepting that risk and developing thick skin. I am building up a tolerance against people like that for when I begin to start publishing my work as well as when I start putting my blog out there more. I always welcome constructive criticism and feedback, and usually that is what I get on my writing. However, I have been receiving comments from someone who has been leaving me paragraphs in response to my most recent blogs about the break-up I went through in November, “In The End” and “The One That Got Away” on both my blog page and my Facebook page. I have deleted the comments, but the comments went beyond criticism. I will not discuss the content of the comments, but they could easily be classified as harassment. The comments were lengthy ramblings by someone who was convinced that my blog posts were about them and insulting me. I am unsure if they were written by the person the blog was about or by someone who does not understand that someone can write about situations similar to what they have been through but not be talking about them. I know that there will always be critics out there and I cannot stop them from expressing themselves, but I do not tolerate harassment especially in a place that is supposed to be a safe space for me. I did not insult anyone in those two blogs, just expressed my emotions about the situation to help me release repressed emotions and explored my genuine thoughts about my ex and what had happened so I can continue the moving on process. As I said, just as he can speak about me, I have every right to do the same. Whether or not this was him, or someone I do not know, I will not point fingers but I will say that in spite of what happened I refuse to stop writing and stop putting my writing out there. I may need to disable comments for a while. I have also considered starting a new blog and removing my Facebook page for a while. Again, I welcome constructive criticism and it deeply disappoints me that I need may need to alter what I have been working on for three years if this keeps up. I just do not welcome any kind of harassment throughout my page and my blog. For the time being, however, I will continue to post my blogs on here and keep up with my Facebook page, Lisa Speaks Out. I thank those who have been follow my blog and page, and for those who continue to show support in any way possible whether it be through reading, liking and/or commenting. Your support is much appreciated.

Bad Day

Saturday I woke up with a smile on my face.

I got dressed up, put on my eyeshadow and lipstick, took pictures, put them on my Instagram, posted a prose on my Facebook page about finding the light when facing months of darkness, and headed off to work. My plan was that after work, I would attend a writing group I was in and then go to a party afterward. I had psyched myself up for that day considering how the weather and having a bad cold kept me indoors most of last week, isolated away with nothing but my anxiety and bad thoughts circulating in my head.

Perhaps my first indication that the day was not going to go well was that my insomnia decided that I only deserved a half hour of sleep.

The day started off as planned, in spite of sleepiness fighting it’s way to consume me. I fought it off with two cups of coffee, and made my way to work and to the writing meetup.

The thing about bad days is that you don’t know when they will happen. Expectation leads to failure, that is something my ex-boyfriend always used to say and I came to learn that he was right (as much as I hate to admit it) the hard way. This day took a turn for the worse so quickly that I am still trying to process it.

I have had bad days in the past. I have also had time periods in my life where every day seemed like a bad day. Though it seemed impossible to do so at times, I would find myself mustering the strength to power through it all.

These past few months have been an example of a time in my life where I experience a plethora of bad days at once. There are a batch of good days thrown in here and there, but they are always followed up by those bad day(s) where I am faced with an overwhelming amount of bad news and/or experiences where I often wonder when there will be an end to the madness, and if I will even be able to survive long enough to reach that point without just giving up.

Still, I have lived twenty-two years, two months and eight days of my life so far. That is approximately 8,098 days. I am horrible with math, but out of those 8,098 days, the reality is that the amount of bad days I have had can barely even measure up to a quarter of my life. There are also the good days, the semi-good days, the semi-bad days, the neutral days, the so-so days, the pseudo-bad days (as in those days during my adolescent years where it felt like my life was over because I lacked the maturity to realize that what I was going through would not be significant ten years later), the lazy days, the boring days, and the days that made up the first few years of my life where I was too young to comprehend the concept of time.

Even with the bad days I have had and the periods of my life where I was faced with weeks to months of bad days at a time, the reality is that even if life has a habit of hitting us with what seems like an infinite amount of bad days, there is so much to look forward to. You could even find good buried within the crap that life throws at you if you stop looking at the empty half of the glass.

This is not to suggest that you are not allowed to cry, to scream, to vent or to lock yourself away from everyone and everything for a while. You must feel your emotions before you can reach the point of acceptance. Saturday was not my first bad day, and it won’t be my last either. No matter how much better I feel compared to that day, and how insignificant the things that were bothering me that day have become, there is always a promise of more bad days. As someone who suffers from depression, dealing with bad days along with the promise of more bad days to come has overwhelmed me.

I guess what I am trying to say is, bad days are always going to happen. You may wake up on the wrong side of the bed, you may come across news that ruins your day, you may face experiences that affect your life for months or years to come, or you may have a day where everyone and everything triggers you into a fit of rage. The most important thing is that you feel and release the emotions that the bad day brings to you through writing, tears, excersise, drawing, whatever soothes you. It is also important to keep in mind that no matter how difficult life gets, there is always a promise of better days ahead. You may not be in control of everything that happens to you and of the people around you, but you are in control of your emotions and how you choose to handle things and perceive life.


Announcements:

Usually I don’t do this, but I had three announcements I wanted to make.

1. For the next week, I will be releasing a blog or two each day. These are blogs I have written but never posted, ideas I had but never posted, or posts I have started but never finished. It’s not a series in a sense where they all relate to each other, I just wanted to start getting more of my writing out there since I have a lot of free time this month and I am starting to write more again after dealing with a block for a few months. I will say though, that while I did not really go into detail about the bad day here, you can the events of it mentioned in some of my blog posts I will be posting throughout the week.

2. I still have not forgotten about the book I have been writing, About Last Night. I am still working on getting the preview done as there are still edits to be made, but I expect the preview to be out this month. Once I have finished and put my preview on Amazon, I will post it to my blog and my Facebook page, Lisa Speaks Out.

You can read the description for About Last Night here:

https://lisaspeaksout.wordpress.com/2017/09/07/about-last-night-release-date/

3. Finally, I do tend to be very open in my writing about issues some have deemed as “too personal”, the reason being that one of the purposes of my blog and my writing is to release these thoughts and emotions I have held in or been silenced from sharing all my life. As a writer, I understand that I will receive negative feedback here and there, it happens to even the greatest and most professional of writers. Anyone who wants to put their creativity out there has to deal with not-so constructive criticism from people who will leave reviews and comments that are cruel. Part of being so passionate about what you do is accepting that risk and developing thick skin. I am building up a tolerance against people like that for when I begin to start publishing my work as well as when I start putting my blog out there more. I always welcome constructive criticism and feedback, and usually that is what I get on my writing. However, I have been receiving comments from someone who has been leaving me paragraphs in response to my most recent blogs about the break-up I went through in November, “In The End” and “The One That Got Away” on both my blog page and my Facebook page. I have deleted the comments, but the comments went beyond criticism. I will not discuss the content of the comments, but they could easily be classified as harassment. The comments were lengthy ramblings by someone who was convinced that my blog posts were about them and insulting me. I am unsure if they were written by the person the blog was about or by someone who does not understand that someone can write about situations similar to what they have been through but not be talking about them. I know that there will always be critics out there and I cannot stop them from expressing themselves, but I do not tolerate harassment especially in a place that is supposed to be a safe space for me. I did not insult anyone in those two blogs, just expressed my emotions about the situation to help me release repressed emotions and explored my genuine thoughts about my ex and what had happened so I can continue the moving on process. As I said, just as he can speak about me, I have every right to do the same. Whether or not this was him, or someone I do not know, I will not point fingers but I will say that in spite of what happened I refuse to stop writing and stop putting my writing out there. I may need to disable comments for a while. I have also considered starting a new blog and removing my Facebook page for a while. Again, I welcome constructive criticism and it deeply disappoints me that I need may need to alter what I have been working on for three years if this keeps up. I just do not welcome any kind of harassment throughout my page and my blog. For the time being, however, I will continue to post my blogs on here and keep up with my Facebook page, Lisa Speaks Out. I thank those who have been follow my blog and page, and for those who continue to show support in any way possible whether it be through reading, liking and/or commenting. Your support is much appreciated.

In The End

How do you say goodbye to last year when a part of you still is holding onto the remains of what once was but no longer is?

How do you let go of yesterday when its memories are still imprinted in the back of your brain today?

Last week I had a dream where I saw you for the first time in two months. In my dream, you said the words I was dying to hear you say for weeks, “I am sorry, I want you back.” I was filled with pure ecstasy, until you disappeared. I did a double take, and yet the chair before me that you were just in moments ago was empty. I looked around, and it turned out that for my whole dream, I had been talking to myself. You were never there, but rather a figment of my imagination.

I promised to myself that I would never take you back after the pain you bestowed onto me. The pain you brought upon me the day that you chose to leave, lest we forget it was a few hours before my birthday party.

I was no saint to you, I admit that. I made my mistakes, I admit that. In fact, I wasted a month blaming me and only me. I only recalled how comforting your touch and kisses felt, how welcome I felt laying next to you every night, and how you were more caring and loving to me than anyone I have ever been with. I protected you from the cruel words of others before and after our break up. I believed you did the same for me.

Perhaps I had been asking for too much, or perhaps I was still looking at you through rose-colored glasses I looked at you. However, those glasses were shattered by your thorns.

They say that love makes you blind, well I guess I was blinded by how spiteful and deceitful you really are.

I had once betrayed your trust, and I was once a deceitful person myself. However, I changed all that for you because I believed you were worth it. I let go of my toxic habits so I could be the best person I could be for you. I could not erase my past mistakes, so instead I focused on fixing the present.

I had a past of being emotionally abused by other guys and suffer from serious abandonment issues, so letting you in and putting my trust in you was difficult. With each kiss, each moment of intimacy, each time you left a smile on my face, each time your touch would heal my internal wounds, each moment you protected me in your arms, and each time you made me feel special in a way that most people could not, you managed to find your way into my heart.

Before I knew it, I was so deep in love there was no way back up.

Once I was in too deep, I had became positive that you were the one. I was so positive, that I began to envision spending my life with you. I would dedicate all my time to you, go out my way to spoil you for your birthday and our anniversary, spend all my money on you, talk you up to everyone in my life, and do just about anything you asked of me. All I had ever expected in return was your smile. My god, your smile had truly warmed my heart and was the greatest reward of all.

What I had also gotten in return, was being exposed to that dark side that you have but won’t admit to. If you do, you will just say that I provoked it. That side of you that you kept buried within until the last few months of our relationship, had me feeling like I was walking around on eggshells because any little thing triggered it, would come out until you had successfully pushed me to tears, and got worse and worse as time passed. That side of you that would yell and scream at me in public, in front of my family and neighbors and even in front of your family. You would admit that you were wrong in doing so, yet your apologies were as empty as your promises to me because you still did it and decided that it was me that was making you so fed up, not the fact that you had serious underlying issues that you did not want to face.

You made sure to not show this side to your friends, so I can’t fully blame them for seeing you as a saint while deeming me as the issue. Some of your friends I was able to get along with, but many of them had decided that I was not good enough for their liking over the littlest of things, such as, “oh she doesn’t talk enough” or “oh she’s too emotional.” Did you ever notice how I never picked on them or talked down to them to their face as they did to me but instead tried to seek their approval because I knew how important it was to you for your friends and your girlfriend to get along, or were you paying attention at all when you stared at a wall pretending not to hear as they would disrespect me to my face? Did you ever really confront them about how they wasted their energy talking about me publicly on Facebook calling me toxic and saying I run away from the truth just because I blocked them because I was done with them poking their nose in and saying I scare people away while I was still grieving over the loss of our relationship? No, you did not. I wasted all my breaths defending you and telling everyone all the mistakes I made, hell I even made a blog the day after we broke up called “Broken” where I blamed myself for everything falling apart. I had implanted in my head that you were perfect and that I deserved what I did for betraying you in the past and because I had provoked your anger. Never mind that I had changed from my toxic behavior while you had not, that I had betrayed your trust once and never did it again out of fear of hurting you while you did not genuinely care to change your behavior despite seeing how it was affecting me, and that I did not yell or curse at you or insult you really but rather cried when you yelled at me and you still carried on. I let you make me feel small because I believed I deserved it for what I had done, because if I was angering someone like you then something had been wrong with me, and because I believed you were the best I was ever going to find.

I hoped I could change you. Silly Lisa, did you not learn in the past that you cannot change someone that is not willing to change. When it came to you, I just believed you were not changing because I was not enough for you. When our arguments became explosive and I finally screamed back at you just a few days before we broke up, I spent that night being terrified you would leave me because I yelled at you. You, however, had been screaming at me for months, taunting me with those words, “well why are you still here?” and telling me to leave in a condescending tone because you knew I would not, and had been doing little to defend me against your friends who found any reason not to like me and mock me to a point where I could hear them do it in the background on the phone one time. They did not know me, however, and you did, so you had the power to put a stop to it. You did not, since you let your friends make your decisions and you always put them first. Ever notice how when your friends insulted me, you did nothing, but when I pointed out your tendency to prioritize your friends over everyone else you would explode at me and back them up. One time, you even resorted to yelling “shut the fuck up” at me when I had been calmly explaining to you your tendency to put your friends first. I also recall them going off on you a number of times over nothing as they did to me, but you did not do anything more than constantly apologize to them.

They never have been exposed to how disgusting your behavior and attitude gets when you are angry, and maybe that is why you respect them so much. When I would say they judged me without trying to get to know me, you would retaliate that I did not know them well either. They clearly don’t know you well either, and you like it that way. You would rather keep up your reputation with them so they can stroke your ego and attack your “bratty” girlfriend or anyone that calls you out on your bullshit. So who is really the one that runs away from the truth?

I cannot deny that you did do a lot for me and change me for the better, I will always love you deep down and I will always hold onto the good memories of you and I, and I know that deep down the break up had cut a knife through your heart as well, but I refuse to allow myself to take the blame or keep quiet to protect you any longer. I always made excuses for your anger, for your immaturity, and for your lack of respect. I always claimed it was because of what you deal with in your personal life, because of my past mistakes, and because some of your friends manipulate you. Only after our breakup did I not only begin to open my eyes to how poorly you treated me at the end of the day, but also I was exposed to a side of you that you kept hidden from me.

I was defending someone who used my past he claimed to not judge me for against me by deciding that I had to be making up texts of one of his friends calling me names such as “slut”, “autistic”, and “white cunt” as opposed to accepting that one of his beloved friends were probably harassing me. I had screenshots and it was so bad that I had to change my number, but you did not care. Why did that surprise me though? I mean, you did dump me just before my birthday party while I had been planning yours five months ahead. You also took no time and hesitation to block me everywhere less than a week after we broke up. You seemed to have no issue cutting off contact with someone who had gotten close with, loved, and trusted you. You spent a year and a half of your life with me, yet it took you less than half a week to burn bridges. I would love to say it was difficult for you, except that was the last I ever heard from you. I had been trying to make sure you were okay, and you just cut me off then went on about your life without a wonder about me.

I also would have loved to believe that it had been for my own sake as you had sworn, but that too is hard to believe when you had made me a joke to your friends and publicly put on a Facebook post of yours how I am such an attention-seeker and how I exaggerate the impact of the trauma I have been through. For someone who is so hung up on his friends, you sure don’t keep tabs on the fact that one had told me what the fuck you were saying about me. I guess even with all the yelling and screaming you did to me, you still cowered away from telling me certain things you really felt about me by waiting until you blocked me to say all that.

You know all the shit I go through, and you know how guilty I feel about my past and how hard it was for me to come out with it, yet you still humiliate me by making me a joke and calling me a name on your Facebook when people know exactly who you are referring to. I may be putting this out there, but at least most people who read this won’t know who you are.

It’s still quite pathetic how I actually fear what you’ll think and whether or not this blog will hurt your feelings if you ever happen to stumble upon it. Still, I write this simply to start coming into terms with my own emotions, because I have been putting your feelings before my own for too long. Because the immense amount of pain I have felt should not be released just in the form of tears onto my pillow due to both me grieving the relationship and your cruel words, and because I refuse to be denied my right to express myself any longer.

You did love and care about me, at least in one point in time, but it does not negate all the hurt and the heartbreak you’ve cause me.

I had my flaws in the relationship, but it does not negate how I had loved you with every ounce of my being and did my best to ensure that I supported you and kept you happy. In your eyes, however, it was not enough to keep from dumping me at the worst time, calling me names afterward, and from lashing out at me in the worst way possible.

Last summer, I remember I took you to an event at a karaoke bar the support group I am in was having. We sang “In the End” by Linkin Park to close out the night before leaving. Whenever I hear that song now, I can’t help but find it a terrible coincidence how many of the lyrics, especially the chorus, “I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter” wound up being so fitting.

 

The One That Got Away

Nothing this week went as expected. 

 It was supposed to be a week of parties and celebration. Yet somehow, everything went south so quickly. 

Being really sick, Arguments, a terrorist attack happening right near my job, and broken promises. 

My 22nd birthday was on Wednesday. I had planned to be taken out by my boyfriend and yesterday have a party. Wednesday itself was not a bad day. I went to work, then went out with my boyfriend. Except something blew out and now he is not my boyfriend anymore. 

I have experienced plenty of breakups and fallouts in my lifetime because I didn’t just lose a boyfriend, I lost a best friend too. Someone who knew more about me more than anyone else. Someone who I knew every side of. Or at least I thought I did, I didn’t expect that he would dump me on the day of my birthday party, just two days after my birthday and on one of the worst weeks I have had in a long time. 

I keep blaming myself. I keep thinking of what I could have done different so that he’d still be mine. I feel like I could have been a better girlfriend and that I overreacted too often to many things. I keep blaming myself for everything going wrong, simply because that’s what happens when you get left behind. 

Except I did change a lot for him. I did do everything I could for him. As cliche as it sounds, everything I did in the past year I did it for him. Everything I became and everything I did was all for him. 

And now he’s gone. 

Everyone always leaves me. I’ve lost most friends in 2017 than I can count on both hands, yet losing him stung the hardest because he was everything to me. I loved him harder than I had loved anyone else, and he taught me what being in love was really about. I still love him deeply. That’s why I can’t even trash talk him, because I care too much to do such. In just a year and four months we developed into a couple that overcame so much together. Things were far from perfect the past month, but I genuinely believed we could work through it. I knew things weren’t easy for him, so I kept doing my best to bear with him and stay by his side, knowing that he needed someone there. Even when we argued the other day, I stood by believing that he and I would get through it because that was us. We were always there for each other and always made it through the worst of times. I had considered leaving before, but put it aside because in my eyes he was always worth it. 

I’m still in love with him, and I still keep blaming myself. Even with my friends kind words when I went to my birthday party last night, which he dumped me before and I spent the whole night breaking into tears wishing he was there. It was supposed to be my night where everything finally came together

People may think I’m ridiculous for posting this, but I still am trying to figure out what happened and why it had to happen this way. I still keep trying to figure out how just a week ago he was at an Open Mic supporting me and now a week later he’s gone. I’m still mourning the loss of someone who meant more to me than any person I been with, someone who was there for me during my Worst, who supported me when I was hospitalized earlier this year, who would make his way to meet up with me the nights I get out of work late, who influenced me to change all my bad habits, who spent his last dollars on me and who saved up just to take me out just the other day, who would spend every weekend with me and take me to every party, who would hold me in the midst of breakdowns and talk me up whenever I put myself down, and who never judged me, who just two weeks ago promised he’d never leave me. 

He’s gone. He’s gone and even if he said it was goodbye I’m still doing my best to face the reality of it. Some would say he’s just a guy and not worth it, but he’s meant so much more to me. Dammit, he still does. 

But he’s gone. He’s gone and with every tear I shed and every pain in my chest I wish he was here, like he always was, to hold me and comfort me. 

I believed he was the one, but he’s the one that got away…

Inktober Day 7: All Eyes On Me 

I am back! I know October is almost over, but I have been working hard all weekend to catch up with that Inktober to-do list I made. I am determined to be caught up by the end of the week. 


Day 7: Shy 

“All Eyes On Me”

“That kid who always sat by herself at recess, who went the whole day without saying a word, and who you saw in the halls that interacted with no one, that was always me. I have always suffered from social anxiety, but I never knew there was an actual name for it until I was older. As a child, I always thought there was something wrong with me. I never liked playing with the other kids, I had nothing to say to anyone, and I never quite fit in. I was always like a puzzle piece that got mixed in with the wrong set. There were a few kids who attempted to be my friend, but I always was too shy to speak. As a result, most people bullied me as opposed to trying to get to know me because it was so much easier to call the odd one out a weirdo and retarded. Though my desire to be alone subsided as I reached my adolescent years, I still had been too socially awkward to properly communicate with anyone. My years of isolation and being mocked to a point where I could barely utter a single word without being teased caused me to develop an inferiority complex so strong that I had been unable to speak without stuttering, shaking, and reflecting on everything I would say to someone afterwards. Even if they weren’t judging me, my mind would convince me otherwise. Though I have become much more self-confident thanks to years of being involved with theatre, being in college, and the various jobs working with people that I have had, I still struggle with being more sociable and with feeling like everyone is silently judging me. I hear the voices of those that had teased me growing up for being socially awkward in my head, and I obsessively overthink everything I say and do in my head. Thanks to social anxiety, I feel like everyone is always laughing at me internally, and like everyone’s eyes were on me.”

Inktober Day 10: Ode to my First Love, The Snake

So I posted “Poison Apple” last week and said that it had a part two, well this is the part two. It’s the aftermath of my “Poison” drawing. If you haven’t seen it check it out. It’s my Day 3 submission 

“Ode to my First Love: The Snake”
“After she took the bite, what ensued was months of manipulation and deceit. He had blessed her with words no man had spoken to her in years. Words that, at the time, she wanted to here. Still, words were meaningless without action, and despite her spreading her legs for him every week, he did not seem to keep up with his promise. In fact, the more she had given her body to him, the more he drifted away from her. The more he presented her with the feeling of closeness that intimacy brings, the more she fell for him against her own wishes. She attempted to stop herself, but she lost that internal battle. She sucummbed to the effect of the poison he had filled her with that summer before and fell hard. He was not there, however, to catch her. Instead he began to limit their hangouts to only messing around and saying that he had feelings for her but she did not have what he was looking for. Still, she clung onto him, he did have a piece of her no one else would ever have after all. He knew that, in fact, he knew that she was head over heels for him. He also knew that she was nothing more than a fuck he could keep around until he got bored, so he decided to string her along for his needs. He wrapped his slithering body around her and continued to fill her with his venom to keep her attached so he wouldn’t lose his little play toy. When her demands for commitment he promised to her became to overwhelming, he decided she wasn’t worth it. He left her to give someone else the one thing he promised but never gave her, a relationship. At that time she realized not only had she been played, but that she did love him but his “feelings” were never there for her. Her first love never loved her back, and the poison he filled her with killed her internally.”

Sorry for the flood of art on WordPress, I’ve just become so obsessed with art and am improving so I want to share it as much as possible. For those interested in more of my art, follow lisawolfs_artgram for more. 

I still haven’t forgotten about my book, About Last Night. The preview will be up soon 🙂 

Inktober Day 10: Not a Compliment 

I really need a scanner 😦

This is one I was looking forward to for a while, mainly because I had never drawn animals before. Also because I wanted to give a message.


 

Day 10-1: The Cat (Female) from Anthromorphic People prompt

“Not a Compliment”: “I was ten years old when a guy first looked at me sexually. I was eleven when a guy on the internet who stalked an older friend of mine preyed on me because I was “cute”. I was fourteen when a Senior pulled me onto his lap at a high school dance. I was also fourteen when a guy stalked me home for the first time no matter how much I ignored him. I was sixteen when an guy grabbed my ass at a party and attempted to take advantage of the fact that I was drunk, and that same night the ‘friend’ I came with just laughed at this and left me to fend for myself. At seventeen I was called ugly and a bitch by guys online just because I wouldn’t send nudes. I was eighteen when a Professor that I trusted had become too friendly with me. I was also eighteen when a “boyfriend” I had at the time blamed a few guys making lewd comments toward me on the fact that I was wearing shorts. I was nineteen when someone another student in my college at the time had stalked me through Facebook and my classes and I was told that it wasn’t stalking if he wasn’t directly behind me. I was twenty when I was catcalled in the hallways at work and when I reported it, another girl who overheard said he only did it because “I’m pretty.” Earlier this year, I was harassed by a “friend” from high school and a guy on the train followed me and threatened to beat me up if I kept ignoring him and pulled out a pair of dirty panties from his bag. I am twenty-one going on twenty-two and I still face these harassments on the street, the “hey sexy”s and the lewd comments about me as if I am a piece of meat. It is not a boost to my self-esteem, and it is not a compliment. I am a human, not a cat, so don’t make kissy noises at me.”

For more, follow my art instagram, lisawolfs_artgram 🙂 

About Last Night preview coming Soon! 

Inktober Day 3: Ode to My First Love, The Poisonous Apple

Yet another one a day late ;-; This whole week has been very crazy so I apologize. I hope to catch up today or tomorrow.

For more of my art for Inktober, follow my art Instagram, lisawolfs_artgram and my DeviantArt lonewolf712 

This one was done by Staples brand pens, and Gelly Roll pens by @sakuraofamerica 

 This one was rushed, but this is it:

Day 3: Poison

“Ode to my First Love: The Poisonous Apple” 

(This one is a two-parter. Part 2 will come with a future prompt.) 

“Her whole world was crashing in front of her. She felt overwhelmed to a point where just getting out of bed and living her day to day life was exhausting. When she no longer desired to be alive, he came into her life like a knight in shining armor. Her night in shining armor. He seemed as sweet as an apple, but she was hesitant to take a bite. She was vulnerable however, and he knew to say all the right things. Beautiful, smart, valuable, all the things she wanted to hear from a guy but was deprived of all her life. Her inferiority complex caused her to believe that she needed a man to tell her these thing in order to feel validated. In her eyes, he was perfect and she did not hesitate to give him a part of her that was so pure and valuable. A part of her no one else had. In her eyes, he was worthy of it. Little did she know, he was venomous. He was filled with a poison that would soon take over her body, but she was too naive and inexperienced to realize until after she took a bite. He only wanted one thing, and a virgin girl in her late teens seemed like the perfect target to fill his poison with.”