Tag Archives: love


In her eyes is pain beyond his ability to comprehend.

No amount of tears could depict the her sorrow.

But what do it matter to him?

He got what he wanted from her,

so why should he give back?

Everyone says that he is selfless and will do anything for the people he cares about,

But if you look deep within, he only cares about himself.



I’ve done a great job in not thinking about you lately.

Oh sure, I dreamt about you last night, but that happens every so often. I still dream about people who haven’t been in my life for years now, but by the daytime they are off my mind yet again. For the past few days, you have been no different.

Last week, I finally got around to deleting all of our Facebook photos together. It was so hard permanently destroying any evidence of us being together, but there was no longer any sense on clinging onto those photos any longer.

The photos are gone. Since I also removed our photos together from my phone, Instagram, and you never liked taking photos of us yourself, any photos of us being together no longer exist. While it was agonizing to see your face in those photos and being reminded of a time when we were once happy together, there was something satisfying about deleting those photos that kept me from tearing up. Perhaps it was because it showed my progress toward acceptance that you are my past.

Sure, it still has not been completely easy to let go. Our conversation archive is still in my Facebook Messenger. Even if I never read it, I still cannot get myself to delete it. I still avoid certain songs and television shows because they remind me of you. When I pass by certain areas that we have been to together, you will cross my mind even if just for a second. When I am feeling down or am expriencing something even mildly distressful, I wish to vent to you about it from time to time, though that feeling is being replaced by wanting to vent to my close friends about it. I still occasionally wonder how you’re doing and how your family is doing. Whenever I hear a skateboard coming down the street or see a bike messenger, I think of you.

But that’s normal right? You played a significant role in my life. You were considered a best friend to me, you were my first long term relationship, you were the first person I ever imagined spending my life with, you were my first real love, so naturally I will still think of you from time to time, and we made so many memories together and spend so much time together that naturally many things will remind me of you. I still imagine that years from now, even when I am far moved on from our relationship, I will still be reminded of you once in a blue moon.

Still, I do my best to help further the moving on process. I have been taking it slow as I wrote about the other week, yet I mention your name as little as possible, I no longer avoid places we used to go to (and I don’t tear up when I am in them or pass by them) and I am starting to have days where I hardly ever think of you. It’s progress compared to November where your name would pop up in every sentence that came out my mouth, where I would rather pay for cabs than go to the nearest train stations because they reminded me of you, and where I spent every waking moment thinking of you.

I harbor anger and resentment toward you, I have more feelings for and about you than I’d like to admit, I still have my moments where I miss you, and I still find my mind lingering on you for longer than a few seconds before I fight my thoughts of you away. It’s easier not to think of or talk about you, but that doesn’t mean it’s still not difficult. Then again, heartbreaks are full of juxtapositions.

The feelings I still have toward you did not hit me again until last night, when I was cleaning out my backpack for the first time in a few months. When I went through the backpack, I found many of our physical memories that still existed but I attempted to ignore or forget about. There were the books you gave me but I never read or finished reading, the vape juices that you gave me but I no longer have use for since I got rid of my vape since it reminded me too much of you, even my Nintendo 2DS that I got last year because you inspired me to play video games again. I held one of the vape juices you gave me as a gift months ago and nearly started tearing up, and I felt that pain in my chest that I have not felt in a long while. As ridiculous as it sounds, any connection to our past together still pains me. These were items that you gave me, were in your possession at one point, or that bring back a memory of you.

It was there that I decided that I needed to put off getting rid of any of your belongings I had as opposed to torturing myself with them just because it was too damn hard to let go of the physical reminders of us. We were together so long and spent so much time together (hell for a long time your house was like a second home to me), but I did not realize just how much of your stuff I still had in my house. When I was going through my closet, I found that I still had a lot of your clothes as well. I have not worn any of your clothes since we broke up, so I forgot that I still had a lot of your shirts and pants I borrowed and never got to give back. I do remember mentioning that I still had a lot of your things in my house when you were breaking up with me, and you responded in a rude tone, “donate it to charity.”

Instead, I found myself unable to let go of whatever physical memories still existed of you, so I stored anything of yours that I still had away so I would not have to see it. Out of sight, out of mind.

Until now.

We you dumped me, you brought large plastic bags full of my makeup, jewelry, clothes, shoes and notebooks I left at your house. I know for a fact that you did not bring everything of mine, and I often wonder if you held onto it as well, threw it away or “donated it.” I mean you must have gotten rid of my belongings that you had left over in your house, because no matter how difficult it was for you, you still threw away a long term relationship within less than a week and made it all a joke.

I have not seen or heard from you in months now. I still am in contact with about two or three of your friends but I never ask about you. I do find myself hoping you are okay in spite of all this anger I have toward you, but I refuse to know what you are up to. Though I still have trouble coming to terms with accepting it, you are my past.

You presently exist in my life through my memories of who you once were and who we once were, but you do not have a physical presence in my life, so therefore I no longer know who you are and you no longer know who I am. We will always have the fact that we were once connected in the past, but now we are two separate people living our own separate lives and I guess that is the way it was meant to be.

When we first broke up, you seemed to harbor anger toward me, and that is a natural thing. You are entitled to your feelings, but it seemed as though you had forgotten that there was good in our relationship as well. When a relationship ends, more often than not, both parties are to blame. I accepted my faults to the point of blaming only myself for the first few weeks, but you clearly had not. To my face you did, but to your friends and social media, you had victimized yourself and made me out to be the bad guy. I addressed this in my blogs “In the End” and “Empathy“. In doing this, you helped me discover who you really are as a person. You may have your good qualities buried within, but you are also deceitful, superficial, and will do just about anything to keep up your reputation with your friends. Is that the case now? Are you still bad-mouthing me behind my back? I don’t know, but as I said, it is no longer my concern since you are no longer a part of my life.

There are two versions of you I could choose to remember. I could chose to remember the ugly side of you and all the bad memories we had together as you choose to with me, or I could choose to remember the side of you that I fell in love with and all our good memories. I have chosen both as I do not regret us ever being together and we did have a lot of memories together that are worth remembering, but I also need to acknowledge that there is a reason why we did not last and that you have said things about me and did things to me that cannot be forgiven.

In that year and four months we were together, there are so many memories we made that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Twenty years from now, I still imagine that if I hear our songs playing somewhere, I hear a skateboard going down the street, or if I pass by your area, I will still think of you and be taken back to our time together. That pain in my chest probably won’t be as agonizing and I may not tear up, but I will still think of you. You are a part of my life I will never forget, and I refuse to take the same route as you and only view our relationship through a negative perspective. Though our relationship did not end on good terms and you are now my past, you still existed in my life at one point in time and, before shit hit the fan, you still made me happy in ways no one else I was ever romantically involved with had.

It’s been almost three months since you walked away and you’re still the inspiration for my writing. You will continue to be until you are so far removed from my thoughts that I have very little left to say.

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.


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:


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…

Announcement: Publishing My First Story

So in all my years of writing, I have not once finished most stories unless they were for a class or something really short for my blog. My room is full of notebooks with stories that I have started over the years and never finished, and my USB is full of unfinished projects that I keep swearing I will get back to. I will get back to them all one day at some point in my life. But now, with the motivation of others, I have found the story I am going to publish first. It Is an idea I have had since middle school, started on multiple times but never finished, and underwent many different versions and titles. Here is a brief look into it:
“About Last Night…”
Thomas Polanco led an average life in college with his best friends and his girlfriend. One drunken night at a back-to-school party during his sophomore year of college, however, his life changes. Except there is one problem, he doesn’t remember the events of that night. He has nothing but a small amount of clues and his senses to attempt to piece together everything that happened. What he discovers, however, is more than he bargained for.
That is all I will say for now. The Prologue and two chapters are done and will be released as an official preview on Amazon sometime next week. The entire book will be released in October or November 2017.
Please follow my blog, my Facebook page Lisa Speaks Out and my art and writing Instagram, lisawolfs_artgram for more updates and official release date. Your support is appreciated

For My Special Someone

Who knew that something special could blossom out of a short encounter with someone who I thought did not even notice my existence?

The months leading up to when I met him were undoubtedly the worst months of my life by far. I fell into the deepest pits of depression and despair to a point where I believed there was no chance of climbing back to the top. My whole life was falling apart at the seams; between  being surrounded by loss and overwhelmed with loneliness, I could not imagine how “it would all get better in time.” Just as I near gave up at any chance of happiness, he somehow found his way into my life. He was the ray of light in the darkness my life was in early 2016.

Oh sure, a guy coming along being the thing that filled the empty void I kept feeling in my life seems trite, yet it was indeed him that pulled me out of that slump. From the moment I met him at the first social event I went to after months of isolating myself from the world, I could tell he was something special. I do not believe in love at first sight, but I do believe that when we met, just by hearing him talk and by the way he approached other people, I knew there was something delightfully unique about him. I could tell he was a beautiful person, inside and out.

Despite the vibes I got from him, I never imagined it was my life that would be affected by him. When we met, we hardly spoke and I assumed it would be the last I ever saw of him. I was used to crossing paths with attractive men and never heard from them again. This one, however, I knew was worth pursuing out that bunch. He was genuinely a sweetheart by the way he talked to his friends and the way he hugged me when I left despite the fact that we barely spoke to each other at all. I did not remember his name, nor did I want to be that creep that asked my friends who he was. Somehow, by chance, I found him and added him on Facebook, and that is where it all began.

What has ensued after that day in June was the best months of my life so far. A month of getting to know each other, and six months of loving (liking at first) and laughing until my cheeks hurt.

In July, I had a crush on him that I refused to let out despite being unable to stop thinking about how he was so protective over me despite barely knowing me and how adorable his laugh was when we first spent a few minutes together as he walked me home from work. Then, when I was sure the crush was unrequited despite the fact that he was displaying conspicuous signs of interest, he kissed me and thus changing everything between us. At first, I was skeptical to let him in as I was used and emotionally abused by every guy I had ever been involved with, but he was easily able to prove otherwise.

Once I let him in, he proved that I had made the right decision. As opposed to being some girl he wanted to fuck around with until something else came along, he began to show me off to his friends as his girl and keep me around as much as possible. It almost seemed too good to be true; a guy I liked had been proud to be called mine and genuinely enjoyed my presence. He would do anything to make sure I was safe as well by doing things such as walking me home and running to my side the moment danger arose. Despite his sense of humor, he managed to stay tactful around me for my own sake, something that no one had even cared to do for me.

What really tugged my heart strings was watching the smile across his face whenever I planted a kiss on his cheek, and whenever he talked about how happy I made him. Never in my life had I felt so special; I had the ability to make someone else actually feel happy!

It was by October, I realized I enjoyed even the littlest things about him. How focused he is on something once he starts it, the way he is able to make one of the biggest downers in the world go to bed smiling, the way he lights up the room the moment he enters it, the way he is so passionate about skateboarding, the way he respects his own family, the size of his heart, and how his smile warmed my heart. At first, I was fearsome of it happening, but I finally accepted that I was indeed in love with him.

And on birthday, he came out with it too. He loved me. I was loved by him. I did not have to question it, because he has proved it every single day since then. He is always by my side and willingly going out and doing things for me whenever I need something. He has emotionally supported me through the worst of my panic attacks and events in my life. He has been one of my few motivations when I ponder if I should keep going with life. Whenever we argue, we always find a way to pull out of it in a mature way. He has proven to me that he has eyes for me and only me, so fear of him being disloyal is never an issue for me. I could list every thing he has done for me, but I could go for paragraphs.

He is everything I have been looking for for years. He is what has been my rock through all the crap life has thrown at me, and he is the reason why I view myself in a bit more of a positive light. I could not imagine my life if I had never met him.

For that reason, I promised myself to protect him and be by his side through through it all. I want to be there to emotionally support him and help him see himself through my eyes. I want to be by his side no matter what happens and help him get through the toughest of times. I want him to know just how precious he is to me, and how he is loved by everyone even if he can’t see it.

I love you baby, happy half-anniversary.

My Lessons Learned: Part 1


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.


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 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.


“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.