Tag Archives: expression

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.”

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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 1 

Day 1 of Inktober! For those of you who don’t know, Inktober is a challange to post 1 drawing every day of October using only ink. (You can use pencil to sketch then trace over it) I am only decent at art, but I decided to give Inktober a try. This one really took me a while to finish due to all the color, but after nearly a week I have finished It! I made this solely using gel pens I bought from Blick Art Materials and from Sharpie Fine-Tip pens. Picking a prompt was so hard because I found so many I wanted to do for each day but I have decided which ones I will pick each day and save the other ideas I had for the future. I will be picking from different prompts each day. The prompt I picked I found from an artist on Tumblr. The prompt was “The Dreamer” from his Space Travelers prompt. Here is the background of my Ink adaption of the prompt, “Life Beyond Earth”: 


“As she looks into the night sky, her eyes filled with wonder, she envisions many different galaxies and planets inhibited by other beings alien to humanity. She desires nothing more than to be a part of their world and to admire the beauty that the other planets bestow. There’s a whole universe out there, and she knew that. She knew that there was a life beyond Earth, and she wanted to experience it all.” It’s not the best and I know I can improve but that’s the whole point of this isn’t It? 

For more of my art as well as the rest of my contributions to Inktober, you can follow my lisawolfs_artgram Instagram and my DeviantArt LoneWolf712.deviantart.com. ❤ 
For those wondering, I have not forgotten “About Last Night”. I have been really busy with work and editing the story and my art, but I can guarantee the preview will be up soon. Thank you for your patience ❤ 

Where Were You

(I haven’t been feeling good all day but I wrote a little something for 9/11)

​I remember when 9/11 happened.

I don’t remember it exactly as it was since I was younger but I remember it vividly. I was 5 going on 6 at the time. I had no idea what was going on, other than something was off that morning.

I was in first grade, and I remember my teacher talking about how something happened in Manhattan but I didn’t understand anything. Then parents started coming in and picking up their kids. During lunchtime my dad came to the cafeteria and took me home, which I found weird because he didn’t tell me he was gonna pick me up early. He brought me home and while he was on the phone I saw on the TV that the news was on every channel. I was terrified because I saw fires, explosions, and people covered in blood. As I said, I was still a child at the time so I didn’t understand how these kinds of things could happen. It was everywhere. Even outside I could hear people listening to the news about what was happening on their radios. I remember crying because I was scared, and even more scared because while my dad was home safe since at the time he worked night shifts (He wound up calling out, which was good considering that he worked near the World Trade Center at the time) my mom was stuck at work later than usual. She works at a school, and since they needed to ensure that the children got home safely first she could not come home until all the kids were picked up. It was understandable, but seeing all those people who were seriously injured on TV and the building falling down made me worry for my mom. 

My mom did eventually make it home safe, but that whole day was frightening. I was young. I didn’t understand death. I didn’t understand hatred. I didn’t understand why people do the things they do. It was the first time I was really exposed to how this world really is and how twisted some people are, how people will do things out of hatred with little care to the innocent lives of others, and for a long time after that I was scared that it would happen again. At the same time, I wanted to pretend it never happened. I would cower in fear whenever commercials came on as a reminder of what happened. I would get paranoid every time I heard a plane. I remember walking in the Times Square station with my family not too long after and seeing a memorial with pictures of people who died, including the face of one woman I saw on the news covered in blood. It baffled me as to how one second, despite being severely injured she was still on the news, but still had died not too long after. I wondered about her life, and about the lives of the others that had been killed. I didn’t know who they were, or any of their loved ones, but I do know that many people suffered losses that day. Many people saw off their husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, friends and so on just to never see them again. I may have been able to pretend it never happened, but they never will. Neither will anyone in New York City, or the United States, or anyone in the whole world. This was not the first terrifying thing to happen in the world, and it would not be the last either. 

It was there I finally learned not only about mortality, but about how cruel this world can be. 

“About Last Night” Release Date

What would you do if you could not remember the night that changed your life forever? Thomas Polanco faces this situation one night at a party during his Sophomore year of college. People are giving him looks and his loved ones are suddenly treating him differently, but no one will tell him why. As time passes and his memory slowly comes back to him, social media publicly reveals an event he doesn’t remember happening and Thomas is unsure if he can handle it.
A two-chapter preview will be avaliable on September 15th on Amazon Kindle and the full novel will be avaliable in November 2017.

Follow my Facebook page, Lisa Speaks Out, and my blog, lisaspeaksout.wordpress.com for more updates.

Happy

Happiness is the American dream. The attractive, intellictual spouse and your own, beautiful house. Waking up to the sounds of your children running about and the dog you dreamed of since you were a child being for a walk. Getting in that car that you never once imagined you’d have and driving to your dream job that is the reason you have nine digits in your bank account.

Happiness is the smoke I puff out my lungs. Happiness is knowing I can no longer be hurt because I am and always will be alone. Happiness is waking up to no one by my side that I have to worry will no longer be by my side once they have made any use of me that they desired. Happiness is staying in that same bed an alienating myself from those people I call friends that make me want to tie a noose around my neck. Happiness is getting through the day without shedding a tear or a trigger to a panic attack. Happiness is those pills I swallow to erase these horredous thoughts from my mentally ill “psychotic” mind. Happiness is just surviving through another day without giving into those dark innermost desires I have in which I mask with this pseudo-happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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. 

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