collection of my poetry and short stories

Posts in In my feelings

There was no screaming, yelling, or apologies. I half expected us to have a shouting match but we looked at each other and nodded in appreciation. I'm sure the entire bar felt our reunion. I remember my friends telling me that whenever we were both in the room, everyone would feel our intensity. We would glow in each other's presence whether we were aware of it or not.

 I must admit, you brought out the best in me. I truly loved you even when my words stuttered in fear trying to express it or when I was too stubborn to return your kiss at the bookstore. The best thing about us was that we were so similar. Too carefree about details that needed to be completed and too stubborn to admit when we wanted to be loved more. We were both the same to the point that we stopped trying. 

You took up so much space in my head and heart. 

But it's been forever and all that space that I had for you I have created for someone else - myself. And it took some time because I didn't want to give you up. Typical Lisa. Stubborn and petty. Always trying to make every "no" to a "yes" without the consideration of reality. But I could honestly say that giving you up, I finally understood what all those stupid Drake songs meant and what people have been singing/writing about for the first time in forever. You reintroduced me to me and for that I am so thankful.

I am so proud to have loved you.  

Carving You In

My hands are scorched

My flesh peeling away

I can still smell you on my body like the remaining embers of a forest fire

I'm limping, holding my chest, trying to keep myself from spilling

All the flowers from my head blossoming and scattering with the ashes

You're watching me

Fleshless, crawling, the delicate wings on your back crashing onto the pavement

Hands on the ground, you carve yourself in

Digging onto the grey, hot ground you bury yourself with silent whimpers

Echoes of a past you try to rewrite and a present you are trying to survive

I have no more love to give you

You emptied me dry

I have no holes to help you dig

Skin to cloth you

Hands to finish your story

I am nothing but a carcass of my old self

You With Me?

"No one really cares. I'm not special. I'm not brave"

She just stared at me and I stared back at her, half hoping she'll dismiss me from the room or change the subject. My therapist looked at me for what seemed like forever and I said nothing after that. We both sat quietly in silence.

I was 18 when I entered therapy and hit my mental breaking point. To say I was exhausted is an understatement. I was physically and mentally depleted. I was defeated. I had finally lost myself. I think she knew because every week for an hour, she would see me retreat and dismiss every little thing a human found important in life. I could give a fuck. I could care less that I weighed nothing more than a 7th grader, my head of hair fell out in clumps, or that I could barely get up from bed. To me, I was nothing. But to her, I was more than the pile of rotting flesh that I often l felt. So much that she finally broke the silence.

"I think you're brave. You're one of the bravest people I think I met and I am very lucky for that. And I care a lot about you and I love you. Not because I pity you but because I want you to understand your worth. I want you to see yourself the way I see you every week. Cause you try so hard and I can see that somewhere deep inside you still care about yourself and the world. You decided to come here all by yourself. No one is forcing you - by law or guardian. You are here. And decide to come every week even when shit gets hard so please remember when I tell you this. You matter so much. You with me?"

So in times of despair much like what I've been facing the last few weeks, I think about her. Not so much her words but this very specific moment in which she presented me with myself. A rare moment in my life where I am able to look beyond sorrow and give myself the love I sought from others. The moment where I can stop grieving and self hating and let myself be vulnerable. Because the struggle lies more than just admitting your feelings out loud but remembering to give ourselves a break when shit doesn't go our way. I forget that I am loved and cared for constantly and this is the consequence of learning to be emotionally independent at a young age. I forget that people actually care more than I think and my absence much like my words have a profound effect. I'm human and I am more wrong than I am right. And despite my anxiety and depression, I am still Lisa Lei. I am still trying and that is enough. Everything is enough, always.

Mother Of Mine

I'm afraid for her as much as I fear for myself. I fear that I will be plagued with these same battles my mom stubbornly refuses to let up. I fear that she would make me her commander in these long drawn fist fights that I refuse to fight. Cause I'm tired and worn out too. I'm tired of fighting the battles my mom has created for me at a young age. Battles that have left me so mentally fucked that sometimes I wonder how I'm still functioning. 

But that is what happens when your mother looks at you with disappointment and hope. The odd combination of "What did I do to make you turn out this way" and "You have the highest potential to be better than yourself". Those are the two parallels I've always fallen into and to be honest, shit is never going to be different. As the days go by and her face is worn from years of wisdom, I'm scared my mom will leave this physical world without confronting herself. Confronting the notion that she may be mentally ill and that her mind doesn't collapse once in a while when she thinks about what her life use to be. That is what I fear that my mom will one day, sooner rather than later won't be able to recognize herself and have closure. 

2015: Year In Recap


I know it's been a while but I'm back. I contemplated doing another post like this but since I've been in a reflective mood I decided to look back at the glory that was 2015. First and foremost...damn. What a fucking year it has been. I haven't experienced so many life changing events in such a short amount of time (both good and stressful). But would I ever take it back? Nah. Regrets have never been part of my personality. Yet beyond that I feel without any of the bullshit or circumstances leading up to bullshit I wouldn't have met the most important person up to date. ME.

2015 to me at least was not about the pondering and reflecting of the drunken nights, places travelled, or even people fucked. This year was truly the reflection of who I really wanted to be. Not to the world but to ME. Who the fuck I wanted to be for myself. 

Looking back I can't pinpoint a single moment where I should have been angry or disappointed. Despite a lot of stressful circumstances, I firmly believe that every situation and person that was introduced in my life was meant to show me something. You know, teach me a lesson, ground me, humble me if you will. And for that, I'm extremely thankful. 

Being away and disappearing (like literally dipsetting my ass out of any type of human interaction), I've learned the wonderful and haunting grace that is being PRESENT in the world and finally meeting myself. 2015 was all that. Facing issues with intimacy head on, understanding my perplex views on relationships, and really, and I mean really understanding the concept of loving someone and forgiveness. Cause in reality, I'm going to be in this body and head space for the rest of my life and I'm kinda tired of making excuses to not make it the best that it could be.

So yeah, this was my 2015. I can't even constitute this as a recap but more of a brief introduction to who I've become the past year. Whatever I've become or becoming, I am extremely fucking grateful that I am here...finally.