My Beautiful Chaos

The cigarette lays in between my trembling fingers as I huff and puff and blow away my problems. I feel tears gathering in my eyelids but I blink them away because you are not worthy of such expression of vulnerability. Your cruel words, the last words I fear that I will ever hear from you, are still playing through my head as I take my last pull. The pull burns my insides, yet it is not as agonizing as the impact of those words you had so brutally said to me. That gentle man I wrote of on my blog last week was not you, for you are nothing but the pain shooting through my chest. The pain that you inflicted when you had told me that your feelings were gone just as I was getting comfortable in your arms. All I desire is to wipe away any memory left of your cruel words and for them to become as the cigarette butt underneath my shoe. I wish to down bottles of alcohol until my liver gives out to keep you off my mind.
We were toxic, poisonous to each other. It always baffled me how one can deliver so much pleasure to your body yet be so venomous to you mentally.
Those mellow days of pillow talk and movies were what I wanted us to so badly be. I craved to be yours, physically and emotionally. For those few nights, I was yours and I genuinely believed that I belonged there.
Maybe it is not you I crave, but your touch and the way you had spoke so gently to me with those bright brown eyes and your eloquent way of speaking. The taste of affection and sensuality I so longed for was in the palm of my hands, yet ripped away so quickly.
The memories I once treasured are now replaced with grief. Greif for something that was hardly even close to a relationship and some one who did not show any remorse to the immense pain he inflicted on me, and for the beautiful chaos that was you and I. Not us, for there was never a point we were ever on the same level, but we were two complex individuals that when collided resulted in the arguments that ensued those beautiful nights and at each other’s throats in chaotic exchanges.
I always say I hate these late nights where sleep does not seem to come to me, yet it is the closest I will ever be to you, again. The smoke I consumed and the nights where sleep was deprived from me except instead of your presence I am cursed with tears and being unable to breath wondering if you are okay and if your cruel words toward me where true.
My friend says it is not you I am infatuated with, but perhaps the chase. Maybe that is true and knowing I cannot have you attracts me to you even more so than being in the arms of any other guy who would not speak to me in such a mean-spirited way or compare him taking advantage my emotions to his sexual urges. The fact that you are out of reach and that you are no good for me is where this wanting to have you derives from. I have a desire to prove all your nasty words wrong and to help you though I know you would not care about the impact your cruel words have on me because I am just that kind-hearted though you seem to believe otherwise. The aggression I had toward you was released temporarily during sex until the tears came out after when I faced the harsh reality that I could let you penetrate me a thousand times and you still would not want anymore than a few minutes with me, but still my heart longed for you and only you.
Maybe I am addicted to this beautiful chaos that was you and I.

Chaos

“You are beautiful”

In the mirror she was hideous. She had scars all over her body and an overbite made up of bright yellow teeth and a plethora of pimples across her body. Her stomach poked a little big and her hips were larger than the rest of her body. Her eyebrows were as thick as the hair on her arms. Her eyelashes, however, were no longer thick as she pulled at them to relieve anxiety. She had the face that reflected that of a thirteen year old despite being twenty. Her light brown eyes depicted a sad, troubled young woman.
Perhaps that is why, the moment any man even remotely attractive called her beautiful, her legs spread open. One stroke to her ego, and she welcomed any intimacy in attempt to boost up her self-esteem.
When she fell into his arms and when he was inside her, she felt wanted.
She felt beautiful.
Until he pulled out and the affection was over. She was beautiful enough to have sex with, but not beautiful enough to pursue any further with.
She sat at home, looking at her face in the mirror. The mascara down her face, her eyes puffy, and her cheeks soaked with tears. His words sunk deeper than he would ever know, outweighing the impact of his claims that she was beautiful.
Pitiful. Repulsive. Unloved. Worthless. That was what she was.
Yet she longed pathetically to feel that high self esteem she felt when he complimented her and gave her the affection she felt she was far too ugly to get anywhere else.
So when he had left her to deal with the agony, the disgust with herself, and the constant belief that he had not desired anymore than what was under her clothes because she was repulsive, she looked in that mirror again.
She hoped to find that empowerment she felt when he had called her beautiful and did things to her body that made her feel beautiful, but instead she saw In the mirror she was hideous. She had scars all over her body and an overbite made up of bright yellow teeth and a plethora of pimples across her body. Her stomach poked a little big and her hips were larger than the rest of her body. Her eyebrows were as thick as the hair on her arms. Her eyelashes, however, were no longer thick as she pulled at them to relieve anxiety. She had the face that reflected that of a thirteen year old despite being twenty. Her light brown eyes depicted a sad, troubled young woman.
Until the next remotely attractive guy came along and called her beautiful. Then, she spread her legs, and the cycle continued.

My Thoughts

On the one hand I want to keep going to see what life has in store yet on the other I want to just give in to that blade and those pills that tempt me but yet I cannot bring myself to do so because that fear of eternal darkness consumes me before the blade touches my skin yet at the same time I crave a taste of death maybe it tastes sweeter than this hell of a life and my god how much it will pain my family and the few remaining friends I have but perhaps they will be better off without a burden such as myself yet I question if I am just being selfish or maybe it’s the reality of things because I am equivalent to a pest to those who love me and nothing more than someone you shove into your busy schedule when you need something from me to those who I wish would actually care about me but what does it matter because I have to be kind-hearted though that’s what I have been all my life the moment I shed tears or vent I am merely seeking attention yet if I shit rainbows and speak so monotone suddenly I am too shy so I suppose I cannot win in this hell of a life where I am nothing but worthless and lonely and fuck I just wish that I can freely release my tears and feel loved and relevant and not be someone wearing a mask that depicts a smiling face when all I am is dead and broken inside and I question if I will ever find love or if I will just be viewed as a vulnerable, pathetic girl that guys will use to pleasure themselves and move along or if I am just an unlovable person and if I will ever get anywhere in life and if I will ever stop eating my feelings then feeling fat and repulsive afterwards and also a nights sleep would be nice too instead of closing my eyes and seeing babies stripped of life or questioning if I am loved in any way, and if all these thoughts will continue to consume my mind and if anyone would care or if so-called people who care will continue to ignore or not take seriously cries for help but best believe if something were to happen their eyes will shed phony tears and they will convey fake remorse because that’s how life is, just like Holden Caufield says, everyone is all a bunch of phonies and all anyone ever does anymore is hurt people and God do I wish I gave no more fucks but I know deep down its not who I am for I have too big of a heart and all I ever seek is the good in everyone and all I ever want is to grant people happiness but no one ever seems to wish that for me so I guess I just have to face the harsh reality that not everyone was destined to be happy and the ones who were are just the ones who don’t deserve it and do not feed me with that it gets better bullshit because my life seems a guaranteed eternal sadness and I seem to be despised because all I ever do is get hurt when I have not done any sort of malice to anyone but it doesn’t matter anymore, I am just so tired that I want to close my eyes and end this nightmare of a life where depression consumes my body and soul. 

When You Can’t Sleep at Night

Why can’t I close my eyes and see peace instead of nothing but the darkness. Why can it not be temporary slumber but rather the eternal darkness I so desperately crave? The knife to my chest, the pills down my throat, the noose on my neck, anything to take away the fucking agony I face on a daily basis that only haunts me in the darkest parts of the night.
These thoughts will truly be the death of me.

Day 4: For my Ex-Best Friend/Ex-Boyfriend

There is one lyric that describes the relationship we shared perfectly.
“Maybe our relationship isn’t as crazy as it seems, maybe that’s what happens when a tornado meets a volcano…”
-“Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem ft. Rihanna
That was us, always facing tension, always trying to best each other at self-destructive behavior, always at each other’s throats. Yet I would be lying if I said I regretted a second of it.

You were there for me at the darkest point of my life. A time where my heart was in the hands of a boy who crushed it with his bare hands and when I lost someone I loved so dearly you were the first who I dialed because I knew you would go beyond the “aw that sucks” that everyone else said. You pushed me away from the platform edge when I was tempted to jump in front of a train last year and unknowingly saved my life. You gave me a shoulder to cry on when affection was the last thing I wanted. You taught me how to embrace acting childish and not be humiliated about it. You listened to all of my troubles and doubts and didn’t chastise me for being upset at you. You made our last day as boyfriend and girlfriend worth remembering and you continued to protect me from a distance even after we broke up. You proved you genuinely liked me for me and not just for what was under my clothes. Most of all, you were the first person to ever make me comfortable with being my real self and you showed me genuine care, which is very rare nowadays. 

Even the littlest of things you did, I cherished. You had the ability to make me happy that I could care less whether or not we were window shopping or watching movies just so long as I was with you. You got me to sit down and watch all three hours of Titanic in one sitting, you bought me chocolates when I underwent one of the most tragic moments of my life, you got me into movies such as Back to the Future or even movies I hated such as Jaws, you accompanied me to seeing my all-time favorite movie, The Breakfast Club, when it was in movies last year, you got me into binge-watching Friends when I despised the series at first, you helped me gain friends by introducing me to your own friends who are some of the most amazing friends one can ask for, you would make your way to spend as much time as possible with me every day. Even the things we did together and memories shared when we were just friends, such as when you brought me home when I got injured or when we were male and female lead in a play together, were significant to me. I can go on and on about all of our beautiful memories, but point is, whether we were listening to music on the subway at ten ‘o clock at night, or wandering around Central Park, or exploring that toy store you loved working at, I appreciated every moment of it. My two favorites were that night after your show where we shared our first kiss and that day by the Hudson River last night where we made it official. 

We were just like a movie where no matter what the girl and guy always find each other. Where the guy pines after the girl and it takes a year of her paying mind to other assholes before she realizes what’s been under her nose the whole time. Or that movie where the guy and girl break up but somehow in the end they always find each other and end up living happily ever after. We were like Ross and Rachel where no matter how much tension there was between us we always wound up in each other’s life whether romantically or not. 

Except, despite the story of us reflecting to that of a movie, it did not end as every rom-com does. In regards to our relationship, there is no rekindling of our relationship or hopes of reunion. 

I remember you once told me to stop focusing my attention on the negative and start looking more at the positive side of things and for that reason I have only posted the positive side of our relationship throughout this.

Still that doesn’t excuse you leaving me alone on the train in one of my most vulnerable moments of my life and excusing yourself for it. Nor does it excuse all tee tears you caused me to shed and your accusations of me getting upset at little things that were only little things to you. It doesn’t excuse you growing irritated with me when I could barely catch my breath enough to speak nor how you lied me into tagging along with your family to Coney Island then failing to understand why I was frustrated with you when we wound up just walking for hours and hours. It doesn’t excuse what you did to my sister at the family dinner or how you humiliated me in front of my family. It doesn’t excuse you for failing to accept that I was not religious as I attempted to accept your Christianity or dragging me to church. It doesn’t excuse the emotional pain you put me through when you demanded a break after only two months of dating and how you found any excuse to drag me to church when that was not my way of life. It doesn’t excuse your condescending attitude of yours or when you would act different in the face of another person and didn’t defend me against her poor treatment toward me, nor does it excuse your attitude when it all blew up that night where we released all our repressed negative thoughts to each other on the phone after I showed you support at a show you were in and wound up in tears yet again.  

Yet when I remember what we once had, those are not the only memories I focus on, but rather the ones that bring a smile to my face and remember that you were worth it. That when it comes to us, I regret nothing. I am happy that I was blessed at one point with a friend and with a relationship with someone such as you who allowed me to be more courageous in being who I really am and help me get in touch with my little kid side again. 

Sometimes I wish that we could rekindle our friendship. The romantic feelings have faded away yet it doesn’t mean the platonic love I had for you hasn’t. I still sometimes find myself wondering how you are doing, despite everything and despite my wishes that you just stay away from me. I sometimes wish I could just call you up or text you and we could just talk the night away like we once did and turn to each other in a crisis. That is not, however, the path life chose for us and reality hits me that the relationship we once had is all in the past. The tensions that have developed between us has prevented us from ever viewing each other in the same light again. 

I hope when you remember us not in that negative light, however, but rather as I do with my first relationship from years ago. I hope that you know my feelings were genuine and that I enjoyed every second as much as you did. I hope you live with no regrets and know it was not meant to be. I hope you know I wished to never hurt you with what I had done after we stopped talking. I hope your perception of me has not changed as mine had not of you and that when you look back at our memories, you will still have a smile on your face. I hope you know I will always care for you as you do me and wish nothing but happiness for you. I hope that as you grow and mature you find someone who will make you happy one day, because you deserve it. 
-Lisa Marie Wolf

A Scar For Each One

He asks me where each scar on my body came from.
There is the scar below my lip. The mark was inflicted by my first boyfriend who swore we’d be married with children by now yet he is so far gone, I can not even tell you how he is now. The scar is nearly faded yet quite visible if you look hard enough.
There is a slash across my cheek inflicted by that college professor who got too friendly and helped himself to my naïve, fragile body when I was only eighteen. The slash has become pink in color, but only visible when my heartbeat increases and swear pours down my skin as I am left alone in a room with a strange man.
Then there is the scar on my belly. The scar is red and there is still a near-decayed scab on it. The scar was inflicted by my beautiful daughter who never had a chance at her first breath. Her lifespan was four months in the womb.
There are long reddish-pink scars across my thighs. They were inflicted by the first boy I ever really loved that only loved me until he pulled his dick out and came. Then I was just the delicate girl whose purity he stole away and those scars are all that is left of him as he has found comfort in the arms of another.
On my knuckles are scars derived from my fist going through the hard plaster of the wall when I became overwhelmed with emotions I was far too ashamed to express. There was something euphoric about releasing my agony through physical pain.
There is fresh red slits across my wrist. As the blood poured out of them, I would imagine that all of my repressed emotions escaped my body through it. The blade was my best friend. The blade could not call me an attention-seeker or attempt to persuade me that my depression was all in my head. The developing scars were a reward.
Upon my chest lays two X-shaped cuts that were in the process of fading into a scar. This was inflicted by my loving father who I was once close with as a young girl. He died and was replaced with a stranger who was abusive and contained so much anger.
On my heart lays a scar that was inflicted by every heartbreak I endured, agonizing experience I faced, and hurtful person I have met. The scar sinks deep into my heart and once faded, yet it had become s overwhelmed with someone slashing into it deeper each time it was in the process of healing that it has developed into a permanent scar; the scar that never fades.

Scars

Day 3: For the boy with the gorgeous brown eyes 

At least that’s what I perceived you as when I first saw you; the boy with the beautiful brown eyes and dark hair. Through those eyes I wonder what you perceived me as. I concluded that I was merely a girl that was always around your friends to you.A few weeks ago, a friend of mine had said something that stuck out to me. They told me that I was infatuated with living my life as a character from a novel. In other words, I am so invested in my writing that I create a person’s for myself based on who I desire to be instead of who I truly am. 

Does this mean I was ever dishonest to you? No, for I was only dishonest to myself for a few months. I allowed one guy from my past whom is the influence of my many stories and trust issues impact me in such a way that I developed a mindset that I could become a man-eater that could have a one night stand on a Saturday night, then be onto the next by Sunday. No strings attached. Move along. 

Perhaps, this vicious, cold man-eater is what you viewed me as. I gave you that one cold, December night, then shoved you away and went on about my life.

All it took, however, was that one night with you to realize that was not me at all. What ensued for those following months was attempts at hookups that failed so bad I would flake just before I could even meet them in person. Perhaps it was also the fact that I did not want to become the victim of an online murder story or obtain a disease, but I also knew I could not have meaningless sex, for I only desired to sleep with someone of value as opposed to feeding into my temptations with someone who I could care less about what their name is or what their hopes and dreams are. It’s just who I am, and no amount of liquor consumed or weed in my lungs could change that.  

Why then, was it you? Why had I allowed myself to go as far as it did as backing out as I did to any other male? Why had my mind always trailed back to you, and why had I desired to speak to you when I knew that I had come off as a user in your eyes? Why did my heart skip a beat when I saw your name or when you called me beautiful and spoke as sweetly to me as any other guy did? 

Why, the answer was in silver lining that I attempted to blind myself from; I caught feelings for you. 

I convinced myself that I was confusing list for genuine feelings. This, however, was not true. 

Considering the outcome, I would say that pouring my feelings out to you is worthless. We already established that a romance will not bud out of this and my god how I wish that I could flip a switch and turn off these feelings that came to be bigger than I had hoped. How I wish that my memories of that night became as foggy as the clouds of smoke we puffed. How I wish that stupid little things like pineapple on pizza or ridiculous stoner movies on Netflix didn’t trigger my thoughts of you. How I wish I could talk to you and only feel platonic feelings as you do with me or anytime I saw you I didn’t have the urge to kiss you. How I wish that I didn’t feel more jealous than I am willing to admit at the thought of you with another girl. How I wish I could have believed that you had nothing but ill intentions with me just so I could let go. 

I nearly compared you to that one guy who took advantage of me years ago, yet that was unfair. You are not him, and you are not accountable for my agonizing past. You have hurt me yet none of it was anywhere near as cruel as what he had done to me. I only wish you had made your decision before that warm April night where we were intimate once more which caused my feelings to grow. 

Regardless, however, I have no regrets with what happened between us. Perhaps being intimate with you was what I had desire all along and the feelings were developing from the moment I first met you in person, yet I ignored them because you being attracted to me seemed so surreal.

I only wish such strong feelings didn’t develop from those nights, and that I didn’t look at you and find you so damn attractive. I wish I could believe that you used me and led me on as I have been warned so that these feelings would go away, and that I wasn’t so darn kind-hearted that I saw the good in everyone. I wish I didn’t hold all of this and the tears in just so that I don’t appear so vulnerable to you, and instead express my feelings in this prose. I wish that I did not embrace these feelings or have the desire to be in arms when we have already established that a relationship will not do either of us any good. 

I wish that feelings could be controlled and that this all didn’t hurt so damn much.   

-Lisa Marie Wolf 

Day 1: For somene from my Distant Past

It has been nearly seven years since we have crossed paths and seven years since I saw your face anywhere besides Facebook pictures and yet somehow you managed to impact my life in such a way that I have an inferiority complex when it comes to guys.

Seven years and still those words haunt me when attempting to pursue a romance or when I look in the mirror and see that overbite and those pimples that you reminded me of every day. To you, it all meant nothing. I was just that ugly, awkward girl in your class throughout all of middle school.

It didn’t matter at all to you how my innocent, naïve heart was crushed to a million pieces or how much I desired to down a bottle of pills because I believe every word you and your follower friends said. It didn’t matter to you how I would go to bed with a soaked pillow every night questioning why I was so hated by you. All I ever did was like you, and it resulted in cruel words that impacted me harder than the sharp edges of a thousand knives to my delicate heart.

If I could go back in time, my god how I would warn my thirteen year old self that you were not worth it. You were not worth pining after for my whole eighth grade year. Maybe I loved your dark eyes and your plump lips that curved into a beautiful bright smile, but those were the only distinctive features about you. On the outside you were a handsome, popular, brilliant athlete. On the inside, you were nothing but a cold, heartless bully who destroyed a young, fragile girl mentally.

Yet, where are you now? A nobody with dreadlocks that hopes one day someone will care about your mixtapes. If only thirteen-year-old me could see that this is what she was hopelessly infatuated with.

Yet, would I listen to my future self back then? Probably not. For I was living in a fantasy world. A world where you would be sensitive and kind-hearted. Where you would bless me with my first kiss and wipe away my tears. Where I would gaze into those big, brown eyes of yours and you would view me as beautifully as I viewed you. Where your words were much sweeter and comforted my damaged heart. Where you would stand up against those bullies, us against the world.

Perhaps, I fell for this fantasy version of you. Perhaps you were the embodiment of everything I desired to be with, popular and loved. That was something I was not for I was an ugly duckling that lacked social skills and the butt of everyone’s jokes. For this reason, my heart chose you and chose to put the fantasies in place of your horrendous personality.

I kept living that fantasy and desired a romance that never happened because in reality you were repulsed by me. You made it your goal for you and your friends to make my final year of middle school a living hell and not a day goes by where I wished that common sense would hit me that underneath those innocent eyes and baby face you were as ugly as you thought I was.

That boy who cursed me out then bragged about the next day to all his friends like it was something worth a reward, the boy who gagged when he found out how I felt about him, the boy who would tease my every movement and word, the boy who tried to spit on me and put dust in my hair, the boy who swore I was so repulsive that my slightest touch made him cringe, that was the boy you were.

When I looked at you again anytime after this epiphany hit me, I no longer saw those gorgeous dark eyes and that smile but rather an ugly little boy so overwhelmed by his own insecurities that he needed to follow his friends and pick on anyone below their pathetic little circle to fit in.

-Lisa Marie Wolf

 

 

Day 2: For My First Love

No matter how much time has passed I will always remember your bright hazel eyes and that blonde patch of hair on your head. You were always one of a kind and someone I will never forget.

Why do I never write of you, then? Well, our romance was one in which words cannot describe. Even as I write this, I struggle to find the right words and tears begin to fill my eyes. Of every guy I have ever been involved with, you are deemed as the one who will always hold a special place in my heart. You had immense love and care for me and proved so with every kiss and touch and that will forever be something I will hold onto in my darkest days.

We could be described as nothing more than, to others, a prime example of love between two not yet blossomed adolescents. We were young, immature, and naïve. We were sixteen yet spoke of the future as though we had a clue. In our eyes, which were blinded by the strong feelings we had for one another, we were inseparable.

I think back to those months with you and think of it as not just a juvenile high school relationship but rather as one of the happiest points in my life. All I remember is butterflies, laughter, passionate kisses, and comfort in each other’s arms. I think of how you would get enraged when you saw tears run down my face and the time you exploded at a group of idiotic boys for stealing something from me. How we could talk hours upon hours about anything and how talking to you felt so natural in a time where I was socially awkward. I think of how I felt compelled to run to you and comfort you when I heard what you were dealing with.

We were perfect.

Sure, it does not excuse the agony caused by you flipping the switch and not desiring to be with me anymore in that summer of ’12. That week where I seemed to have an infinite amount of tears and where food did not seem to stay down in my stomach. Where dark circles remained under my eyes and I had no idea what sleep was anymore. I attempted to go out to forget that we were together and yet the mere sight of our former dating spots triggered those painful memories I so desperately wanted to erase. As did rereading that conversation over and over again and seeing that relationship status that you used to break up with me as opposed to confronting me and for weeks I believed I despised you for hurting me and not even giving a care. You got to run around with a smug look and flirt with who you pleased right in front of my face and there was not a damn thing I could do but cry in private and grieve a once-perfect relationship that fell apart. We were in the same high school for one more year so I faced you and watched you move on while I was stuck hopelessly devoted to those magical months despite how more distant in the past they were.

And for that year I embraced hope to rekindle that flame that was long burned out until my last day of high school came where I received my closure and an inevitable truth hit me; the were no hope of reconnecting for we were not meant to be. We kissed for the first time in months that day and yet there was no sparks or butterflies as there had been the year before. It didn’t matter how things had been because no matter how deeply in love we were or how we once looked at each other like we were each other’s world and spoke about the future because we were not meant to be.

Even if four years has passed and I discovered that you broke up with me not to hurt me, but rather to protect me from yourself and that will forever hold a place in my heart, I ponder if it could have worked out between us if things had been different. That is not the course life chose for us, however, and I thank you for giving me such beautiful memories to have of the first relationship I was in and allowing me to say that I was genuinely happy even if for just six months and all thanks to you. I wish nothing but the best for you.

-Lisa Marie Lupo

 

Can You Tell Me

You can tell me how she looks with her clothes off. You can tell me what size her breasts are. You can tell me about how her hair touches her nipples when she releases it from those buns ahe always ties it in. You can tell me about all the beauty marks and scars she has on her body and where they are all located. You can tell me what her lips feel like and how the touch of her soft, bare skin feels. You can tell me how she sounds when she moans, if she screams or if she contains it with the bite of her lip. You can tell me what her kinks are and how well she pleasures your own. You can tell me how it feels to be inside her and how well she rides. You can tell me how she sounds when she’s done and if she leaves you satisfied.

Yet, can you tell me who she is?

You claim to know her so well. Can you tell me who she is underneath her skin? What does she aspire to be in life? What does she do for a living? What does she do in her free time? What makes her smile and what ticks her off? What is her favorite color? What does she look like when she cries? What has she suffered through in life? How did she get those scars and how many are there? Does she desire a meaningful relationship and family one day?
What does she think of when she sees you?
You claim to know her just because you have seen her naked, yet you cannot tell me even the simplest of facts about her as a person. You may know her physically and intimately, but you are a damn liar if you claim you know and respect that girl, because you do not know a single thing about who she really is nor do you care to know or else you would be more interested in what she has to offer within not what she has to offer under her clothes.
So answer this, can you tell me about that girl?
No you can’t, not at all.