Tag Archives: anger

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 šŸ™‚ 

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Inktober Day 10: Not a ComplimentĀ 

I really need a scanner šŸ˜¦

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 šŸ™‚ 

About Last Night preview coming Soon! 

Regrets

Regrets.

We all have them. No matter how much you preach, “every mistake is a learning experience,” you have to admit that at least once in your life, you have done something that would make you want to jump in a time machine and stop yourself from doing if you could.

What is that regret for you?

When people look at me, they see mystery. They see a reservedĀ girl who keeps her circle small and, while socializing with a few people every day, she rarely lets anyone in. It might make one wonder if she has any skeletons in her closet worth exposing. Some may say yes. Others may say, “no she is too sweet for that.”

Indeed, I may have a good heart that is filled with empathy and understanding for everyone good and bad, but I would be lying if I said I have never made any mistakes harmful to anyone else.

Words I want to take back that I never can. Lies that even I believed at one point. Friends I had lost due to these lies. Actions so vile I cannot even speak of them. All over someone who has no relevance in my life anymore, but did have a huge presence in it years ago. All for someone who was not worth my time and sanity. All for someone who did not care for me, but I had so desperately wanted him to that I cost myself some of the people who actually did.

All for sympathy.

Earlier in 2017, I reached an epiphany. I did not want to be that person anymore. He has been long gone out my life, I am in a much better place than I had been the past few years, I have better friends and a boyfriend, a job I love doing, and I have the ability to express myself creatively. Why did I spend my time running away from myself by creating this life for me that did not exist in the face of my close ones? No more lies, I decided.

“The truth will set you free.” This saying could not be more relevant as I finally opened up about my past. All the lies, guilt, and cruel words came pouring out my mouth to anyone affected by my actions. As I did so, the weight I carried around the past few years finally lifted off my shoulders and was carried away into the wind as I watched it drift away from me forever.

I could say that this brought me peace, and while I left that negative lifestyle behind and some had found it in their heart to forgive me, some had not.

Including myself.

The things I did were harmful and wrong, yes, and while I am not trying to justify it, there was worse things that people have done to harm others. That is what people who know of my past had said. Not to mention that I am only twenty-one and still am just at the beginning of my adulthood. Still, betrayal from a best friend is one of the worst kind, and cruel words have such an impact on someone similar to being sliced by a thousand knives, and while I had not physically harmed anyone or took anyone’s life, I still had caused people emotion pain and took advantage of their trust, and that is something I can never take back.

I have changed. I am more appreciative of those around me, I am mindful of the words I say to others, and I am much more truthful with everyone. What I had done is far in the past now and I have become someone that the dark side of me I had for years would never recognize.

Still, the guilt often sits in the back of my mind and rears its ugly head in every day. My past still haunts me to a point where it sometimes becomes a struggle to come to terms with the fact that I am not perfect, that I have done regretful things to others, and that my past does not make me a horrible person or make me any less of the good personĀ I am within.

 

via Daily Prompt: Sympathy

My Lessons Learned: Part 1

INTRO

They say that getting hurt is an essential part of life and to live life with no regrets. They also say that it is always darkest before the dawn. Throughout the twenty-one years of my life I have lived so far, I have learned this to be true the hard way.

PART 1

It all started with that boy with the hazel eyes and the blonde patch of hair in his Mohawk. He was my “high school sweetheart,” my first boyfriend, and the first guy that taught me what happiness was. He stole my first kiss on the two train during the Spring of 2012 and nothing was ever the same for me again. All those years of being that ugly duckling that no guy would even consider giving the time of day quickly changed into having someone who actually wanted to be called mine and made me feel like I was actually worth something. Our first four months together was full of laughter, kisses, and memories that are now distant yet still remain implanted into bits and pieces in the back of my mind. There was also “I love you’s” exchanged, but we were sixteen and naive. What did we know about love?
As quickly as our beautiful relationship blossomed that Spring, it died out once that horrendous Summer ended. Our two-hour long phone conversations every day where we talked about everything and nothing turned into forced five minute conversations that ended in my tears. His sweet, gentle tone turned into a cold, bitter one that left me questioning if he had grown to despise me for some unknown reason. Whenever he was near, I would find myself noticing those hazel eyes of his that were once locked on me began averting elsewhere. Seeing each other every week turned into him making excuses to be away from me for three weeks until school came near and facing me would be inevitable for him. Then, just a week before my senior year began, he hit me with what I had been warned by my friends was coming but I was too in denial to accept.
He dumped me.
Oh, but he didn’t do it in person, I wasn’t worthy of that. He did so by having me travel to a play of his downtown one hot day in August after deliberately avoiding me for three weeks, hardly acknowledging my existence by having me sit on the sidelines with a depressed face as he took pictures with other women, then sending me home while I was in tears alone in the middle of the night by myself on the train. When I finally obtained the balls to confront him about this on Facebook, since he refused to answer my calls to even at least make sure I was home safe, he made it as though everything was my fault and for a long time I would believe it. I was too shy and boring, he said. He wanted a girl who he could have fun with and didn’t cling onto him all the time because she was too socially awkward to stand on her own two feet. After he was done with his side of why he was leaving me, he decided he had no time to hear what I had to say. He simply left me on seen and changed his relationship status to single, and that was that.
For him, anyway. For me, it was devastating. My first relationship came to an end. The one person that made me genuinely happy for the first time in my life left me with nothing but a broken heart. The week following the breakup was full of starving myself because my stomach ached at the sight of food, and being awake until five in the morning with tears in my eyes as I obsessively stalked his Facebook in hopes of signs of closure and that he missed me.Instead I found him writing about the importance of moving on in life, and dedicating that one Fall Out Boy song where they sing in the chorus, “I don’t blame you for being you, but you can’t blame me for hating it…”, to me. I was convinced that he truly had forgotten me and that five months together meant nothing to him. All the kisses, laughter, and I love you’s meant nothing because I was not interesting or sociable enough for him.
When senior year began, I decided to wipe away those tears and put on a bold demeanor to prove to him that I didn’t need him. Despite the fact that I was still talking in my sleep about him, and resisting the urge to both slap him in the face and beg for him back, I still held my own when facing him in the halls as we walked passed each other as if we never met. That is how it was until one day in the cafeteria, three weeks into the school year, his eyes were planted on me as I talked and laughed away with new friends I made. He then approached me, hugged me, and asked me how I was. In his face, I kept my cool. For the rest of the day, I obsessed over that one interaction wondering if it meant anything. I should not have wanted him back after he abruptly dumped me and expected me to move on, but I didn’t care. All I knew was that he made me happy once, maybe he could again and we could put the horrendous break-up behind us. Having a good heart makes you believe that everyone else does.
That false sense of hope clung onto me that whole senior year. When he and I would have brief exchanges in the hallways or at lunch, the hope would remain. When I dated someone else briefly while I still had him on my mind, and he walked around sulking at the sight of me in the arms of another, hope would remain. When he apologized for hurting me after seeing me sulk around the school for weeks contemplating suicide just around the time I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, hope would remain. Even when he would call me boring, or when he teamed up with his ex to bully me for moving on to another guy, or when he mocked my weight to other people, I still clung onto hope. When I saw him, I saw not the guy who hurt me, but rather the boy with the hazel eyes who admired me and treated me with such respect the year before.
Then came my last day of high school, quite possibly the last day I would ever see his face again. The day where I would pour out my feelings and determine whether or not we would rekindle our old flame.
Oh silly, naive, Lisa. If only you would accept that once a flame is burned out, there is no way of reviving it. You can create a new flame, but it will not be the same. That is exactly what happened with him and I. He got me alone, and apologized to me for everything he put me through. This is the one thing I will always give him props for; giving me the closure I needed to hear to fully move on. Oh sure, I made a fool of myself by pouring out how I felt about him and how I wanted him back. I also kissed him, but the kiss was everything I needed to tell me that whatever was left between us had died out. When I kissed him, I no longer felt my heart skip a beat but rather emptiness. I no longer felt like I was locking lips with someone I loved, but rather someone who had betrayed me, and left me with little explanation. No matter how hard I tried, I could not relive the past and undo the immense hurt he caused me. He was not that sweet boy I dated a year earlier who cared about me deeply and made me feel valuable, but rather someone who dumped me on Facebook and took six months to fully grasp what he did wrong. Nothing was going to change that.
That was my closure. That was what got me to move on. There was also his confession that he was “crazy,” which made little sense to me until the next year where events took place in which I will not write of. Despite the lack of using his name, what had happened was something I will not disclose out of respect of him and everyone involved in the incident. I will say that when I learned of what happened, everything came together and the asinine reasons he gave me for leaving was merely an excuse to let me go for my own safety. He wanted to protect me from himself. That was enough to allow me to gain all the closure I needed to fully move on and accept that he and I just could not be together under certain circumstances.
I would come to learn, however, that sometimes you do not have the luxury of receiving closure from the person. Sometimes people will just do you dirty, and then leave you to pick up the pieces yourself. There is nothing you can do in that situation, but cope with the pain yourself until you can fully move on. You also will have to learn to live without closure, and instead accept that the person did what they did because they are a remorseless piece of shit. More on that in chapter 2.

 

 

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.