Different Wires

I say the things I want to say 

Yet there are times when I don’t say anything at all

But it’s taken in a way that is offensive.

I do the things that I want 

Yet there are times when I go with the flow and let someone take the lead

But it’s taken as a weakness and seen as a loser.

I guess what i’m trying to say,

Is that it’s okay to change from time to time 

It’s okay to let go and let someone be the leader and you the follower.

Do you, do something that makes sense to you,

Not something that makes sense to others.

They can see it in a different light but you see it how you want to see it. 

We’re all born with different wires, 

It’s important to remember that, 

Not everyone sees the beautiful things you see. 



Measurements of love. 

How does age measure love?

Every minute, every second, we grow older. We get criticized for loving someone so deep. So deep that we get blinded, but for all the right reasons.

When had being in love be so wrong?

“You’re too young to be in love”

“You’re too young to commit”

Well how does age measure love?

Since when did love have an age consent?

When was it right to crtiize someone for the person they love?

There is no right answer, because there is none.

Nothing measures up to love. Nothing. 

Love isn’t who we are and who it defines. 

It’s something we feel strongly for, something we can’t live without. 

It’s not something to throw away or something to question.

It comes and goes and when it comes, it’s exhilarating and its painful, but it’s love. 

How can anything measure up to that? 

How can something so beautiful measure up to anything else? 

No i’m not sorry for feeling the way I feel because of an excuse of age. 

Love doesn’t have measurements.

Whether it’s age or anything else.

It doesn’t come with age, like puberty does. 

Love is something much more which no one can define.

If you find it, hold on to it, treasure it, cherish it. 

It’s not something to be destroyed or embarrassed about. 

You feel what you feel.

Now take that feeling and grow and flourish.

No one can stop something so deep. No one. 


This has no Title.

Don’t you cry.

Don’t you dare let them see you cry.

Don’t you mistakenly catch a glance,

From that moving man, that helping stranger–

No, do not do that.

Or your mother,

Or your father.

Let them lift and arrange,

Watch their hands, chin down.

The way they’re so very careful with their hands.

Handling the gift, the cynosure of the evening– no, longer than that.

The tears in your eyes tells you that you will be thankful,

Longer than that.

Walk as though

Your sight has not been blurred;

Pretend the new shades of all that is ligneous,

Is not swirling together in a pool of happiness.

Pretend you’re not too happy.

Pretend this is not a big deal to you

Pretend this isn’t all you’ve ever wanted for a long while

And then,

Pretend as though the bitterness from before,

Has been long gone.

Don’t you dare bring up what’s been long gone.

You’ll only bring yourself to tears again.

Which you weren’t supposed to do in the first place.

Just wait till the hands stop moving.

Till the new things start to feel like your new things;

Settled and perfectly placed, the way such things should be.

The way they should’ve been for the past year;

The way they haven’t been  for the past year.

And finally,

When you hug your mother,

When you squeeze her tight–

(because you’ll be able to do nothing other than squeeze her tight)

–Hide those pink eyes, and your blotchy pink cheeks.

Thank her Averly.

Tell her how you hope she seeps well,

Because tonight will be the night

she is no longer on the floor.

And your father is no longer on the floor,

And your brothers are no longer sharing sheets on the floor,

And you, yourself,

You’re now in a bed as well.

Sleeping next to your oak wood dresser,

And you now have a lamp.

Now, don’t you dare cry at the thought,

Of being able to light up the dark,

Once again.


I was wrong

I thought that it was me and her. That no matter what would happen that she’d be there with open arms. Even after I’d turn my back and tried to ignore my feelings for her, she was always there.

It was us. Just me and her. I was stupid enough to think that I meant something to her, but I didn’t like everyone before me. I thought that I changed her. I thought that she would protect my heart.

I was easy to forget. Easy to turn away from. With just a word it was washed away. Every touch was forgotten. Every moment was shattered.

And I… I will never be the same. She was it. The only one that saw me and my flaws. She was mine and I was hers. But she made her decision. I was nothing to her, but another game she played.

I hate it that I can’t be mad at her. That I can’t get her laugh out of my head. That I can’t think about what if.

I was so blinded by emotions that I didn’t see all the signs. I convinced myself that this was all real.

I thought this was love, but I was wrong.


The thing about being lost.

A Letter that I’ll never send…

I’m alright because you’re not gone. Never were. Never could be. I’m alright because I know when there are nights like these when I’m not so sure where I am, I can always be sure that there is a me somewhere, where you’re there; and there where you are, I’m with you. In your heart, or perhaps on your sleeve. In your dreams ,or maybe tucked away with the rest of the memories you don’t want to remember just yet. But I know you. And I know you’ve put me somewhere.  And I know if I ever need a piece of me back, I could call I probably shouldn’t but I know I can always call. I trust that you’ll keep me safe, I know you love what you’ve kept. I know you cradled it like a child, carefully, whole-heartedly, with every intent to keep it alive…

Did I mention that I was sorry?

Only a thousand times in my head. Although maybe not enough out loud. Sometimes I fight against the urge to call, so you could hear it out loud. But then my voice would tremble, wouldn’t it? And you’d see the gloss over my eyes and ask me why to questions that I’ve long given up trying to answer. Or rather, trying to explain the answer to. I know you. I know your eyes and your hair and your grin and the way you’d get an, ‘I love you’ out of me, against my will; my better judgment, the way you weaken them both, the same way you’ve weakened my knees so many times before. It would all be the same.

But this is good. You are somewhere. and I am also with you, wherever that somewhere is. And there’s an empty confused little girl staring at her computer screen, droopy eyed, at 2am, trying to figure out who she is without her best friend to tell her so. And this is good. This is lost. And lost gets found.

The Truth about Popularity

Popularity is stupid and dumb. What does the word even mean? People change who they are just to earn seasonal friends. We listen to society telling us that we NEED to have a social life. That we HAVE to go out on friday and saturday nights or else you’re a loser. We listen to everyone around us , we let them affect ourselves and on the way you lose it. You lose who you are, you lose the aspect of your life. You become so afraid that youre not in trend with everyone, that you dont have the latest clothes. You’re humiliated being the background music of a party that everyone knows is there but not really, that one person in the class who everyone knows is there but doesnt care about. Your parents tell you to strive for the best. And i think some people misinterpret what that means. It doesn’t mean to have the better clothes, to have better and coolest friends, to go out every night. People lose sight of what’s in front of them. There’s nothing wrong with liking your own clothes, your own style. You dont have to wear the trendiest clothes for someone to like you. You dont have to go out on friday and saturday nights, whats wrong with staying in and camping out on your couch watching netflix while eating your favorite foods? Being the background music for someone else’s party doesn’t feel good but have you stopped and think that your the main attraction with someone’s else’s party? Teenagers are so caught up of the idea of being popular that they change themselves so they can have someone’s approval. If you have friends who you always have to dress up for, then that’s not friendship, thats more like a contest. Stop being so caught up and open your eyes. You’re worth much more than you think you do! Chase your dreams on your own terms, don’t let society or school change you. Keep your sights on what’s important to you, not everyone else around you. Don’t let anyone dictate your life. Don’t let em change you cuz at the end of the day, youre the one who has to deal with yourself. 

Love, Lisa

End of my limit …

There comes a moment in everyone’s life when you’ve had enough. When one day you just blow up because you realize that no one understand and no one will. When you’ve tried your hardest to keep it together, to hold on and not break down. But then there’s that one thing that pushes you over the edge. 

I miss the feeling of feeling. When i know exactly  how i’m feeling at that exact moment. When i thought of everything as wonderful and amazing and beautiful. I miss that. I miss being naive and young. I know, 16 is young, but I don’t feel like a sixteen year old. Sixteen year old shouldn’t be exposed to the things i’ve been exposed to. They shouldn’t be tested on everything at the higest point, they shouldn’t feel like they have to compete or that they’re in a competition with everything they do. They shouldn’t feel judged all the time, especially not with family. Young, Wild and Free, right? I am young, i can be wild but i’m not free.

I’m suffocated, with school and family. They expect too much and when i’m tired of it, I become the bad person. One mistake and everything changes. I thing that changes your life, something that can’t be forgotten because someone in the family is going to bring it up somehow. When you think you’re happy and you’re okay, they’re ready to smash that and make you remember what you’ve done. I know it was wrong, i’ve been trying to fix it. No one’s giving me a chance. Somehow, conversation lead to that discussion. One mistake and everything gets taken away from me. Privacy, privileges, my life. What am i supposed to say? How am i supposed to act? I walk away cuz’ i’ve had enough. 

Families shouldn’t make you feel so worthless and troublesome. They’re not supposed to give up on you or make you’re day worst than it already is. Right now, I don’t know what the meaning of family is. 

I’m numb, i miss feeling. I don’t seem to care even though i try to. 

They’ve said some things that i can never forget so forgive me if i’m not comfortable in my own home. Forgive me if all i wanna do is leave and be happy about it. 

I’ve reached my limit.

Love, Lisa