Tag Archives: prose

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 reserved 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 person I am within.

 

via Daily Prompt: Sympathy

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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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 3: For the boy with the gorgeous brown eyes 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Lisa Marie Wolf 

All for Pleasure

All for pleasure.

All for those warm, soft lips that were like a drug to me. All for the enticement I felt with each gentle touch against my delicate skin. All for the feel of your stubbly face in between my thighs and your tongue on my breasts. All for the sound of your moans that I craved to hear. All for the intoxicating intimacy I felt when I had your body on top of mine and inside of me. The brief moments where we are one and connect in ways that were unknown to me. All for the taste of your cum, the reward derived from satisfying both our lustful desires. All for the cuddling and pure ecstasy that ensued.

All for feeling wanted and obtaining the affection I lacked all my life. All for momentary satisfaction with each thrust and lick. All for the beauty of exposure. All for feeding into cravings and urges. All for how much euphoria I felt having my chubby, repulsive body wanted by someone. All for hearing how beautiful I am. All for the feel of contributing to someone’s satisfaction.

Risking ourselves. Risking our emotions. Risking falling too deep. Risking causing others pain.

All for pleasure.