i did buy four books tonight though..

a book of poems by sappho
the bell jar by sylvia plath
agnes grey by anne brönte
the girl in question by tess sharpe

if you have any book recs like those.. i would love to hear them because im getting really into poetry books at the moment, and i love tess sharpes books..!

my friends forget
im in class
becuase im in the corner,
always
too
quiet.

maybe i need to talk more.
maybe i need to scream how i feel.
maybe i should sit with them...

i know it would solve
this issue
but..
would it really?

i am just known
as the quiet kid
among many.

tell me --
who you are.
where you've been.
because i can't trust anymore.

i can't trust anyone.

between ai,
fake people
and old white lies --
im not sure what's real
and what's not.

maybe my brain
is too twisted
and is making
this all up...

im not sure
what's real
and what's not,
who i can trust
and who i can't --
it's all so confusing.

just leave me be,
maybe it'll spare me
the sympathy
when all my secrets
get dug up.

if you tell a lie,
people cant always
pick it apart
from the truth.

with you --
no one knows
what's real
and what's fake.

there's that feeling
of old memories
and happy voices --
big smiles too,
whenever you hear
thag one tune.

that one simple melody.

that one chord.

it all floods back.

no matter what happens,
it's always her.

she's there through my
platonic breakups,
romantic breakups,
emotional breakdowns,
overwhelm,
and the nights i cry myself to sleep.

she's there
every
single
time.

that's why it's always her.


but you know..
things change.

people change.

so maybe it's not always her.
atleast not anymore,
not the way it once was.

she's not there anymore.

but honestly?
nor am i.
and im trying to move on
from her.

and i think im almost there.

when i dont write, maybe im in a slump or something, just know that my second account will have raw and unedited pieces that i cant finish (sometimes).

just uploaded a really raw one. literally thought of it maybe thirty minutes ago. all my thoughts are there too. so if you like hearing peoples creative process you should check it out.

go check out noumena. might find pieces that wont be on here ever.

i have decided that since i personally write a lot that i dont end up liking, that i would make an account where i share my thought process behind all my "bad" poems. the ones that dont flow, or make any sense whatsoever.

i want to work on how i view my own writing but i also want to improve my writing. i want to have this as an escape whenever i feel down but i also would like to be able to write well when im bored or even for schooling.

i take constructive criticism and i want to hear your thoughts and opinions about my own thoughts and poems. and my second account allows for that.

im aiming to be more vulnerable on there and i will not edit the pieces before they're uploaded.

because life is messy and my writing is allowed to be. no ones writing is perfect. theres always going to be something you can do to make it flow better. atleast in my opinion.

so im hoping this all makes sense and that my second account can be a helpful place in a way.

i sat in the forest --
picking up leaves
and ripping them
in different ways,
different shapes
because everyone is different.

and they all break differently.

i picked a once green leaf
that was staring to brown
on the edges.

i ripped it
and it didn't break
slowly
like the others.

it just fell apart
in my hands.

but it made me look up at the
sunbeams
slipping between
the tall forest trees.

realising,
not everyone breaks slowly.

some people crumble and fall apart
all at once.

and that's okay.

the unlimited stories
unfold slowly,
words floating in
little minds
already worried about
too much.

we were read stories
as a kid,
too many --
umlimited.

some stick,
some don't.

so let the stories unfold
and take in the words,
let them float around your head awhile.

don't think about the story
too seriously --
just imagine.
let it sit for some time.

mysteries fourth project, prescription is three different (made up) medicine prescriptions that mysterie prescribed for healing certain (internal) wounds.

this is a vulnerable project, one that she hopes to connect with people through on many levels.

a Prescription;
- Treachery
- Nostalgia
- Unlimited Stories

the link to read all:
https://perscription.straw.page

yes im well aware that prescription is spelled incorrect in the link.

sometimes
it isn't enough
to just hug
or have my hand be held
in some sweet way.

i need you to hold me
like you mean it,
as though our souls
could actually
intertwine.

that's when it would
be more than enough.

growing up
is all a memory now,
i don't remeber
when i just magically
became a teenager.

but i know
im becoming who i
used to be.

shades of blue for my sorrow,
shades of grey for my tear stained pillow,
shades of teal for the ocean i used to watch,
and shades of orange for the sunrise that i never watched.

im bringing back
my good old friends --
emotion
and confusion.

i don't know
who i am
or what im doing.

because i magically
recieved all these
responsibilities.
i was never ready for this,
i sure never asked for it either.

we don't understand
how much something
or someone
means to us
once it's taken away.

i didn't realise how much
expressing ny emotions
meant to me
and my mental health
until hello poetry
went down.

sharing my feelings
with the world
really helped me realise --
im not the only one
going through this.

i connected with people
through words
i wrote
at a stupid hour
after a long day.

you don't realise
how much
you take for granted
until it's taken away.

we all feel
misunderstood
at some point in our lives,
whether its our whole life --
or a few times.

we all feel
misunderstood
for many different reasons,
and every single reason --
is valid.

but there's someone out there
who understands
every
word
that
you
say.

you just have to have patience.

dreams.

they're weird,
right?

a full movie plays out
in your little head
while you rest --
getting some shut eye.

but as soon as you wake up
your brain
has wiped every trace
of memory
that it had
of the movie.

all gone.

but it felt so familiar!
so safe...
so soft...
so warm...
so --
right.

but that's the whole reason
as to why
dreams are weird.

how am i meant
to know what my life
is going to look like
after highschool?

will i be in university?
studying what?
what job will i have?
where am i living?
what friends do i have?
did everyone leave?

how am i meant
to know
who i am
entirely
at 15
if most people
dont even know themselves
at 35?

writing these are dumb.

stupid even.

no one my age writes!
i feel so out of place.
alone,
drowning in my feelings almost.

i cant breathe.
being the odd one out
is already enough.
not this dumb nerdy trait too.

"she writes whenever she feels"

"uh oh! be careful she might write about you"

so what?
i can't exist now?

fine.

ill stop.
on the account of my anxiety
getting worse --
my attendance too.
my friends leave me slowly.

i grow distant from the world
when i get anxious
and my writing helps me with that.

yeah, let's stop writing
and let that happen.

"act nonchalant"
"im so nonchalant"
"oh my gosh he is so mysterious!"
"why is she so mysterious and serious?"

nonchalant this,
mysterious that,
what about smiling?
showing your feelings?

showing your happiness?

laughing is better than being
nonchalant
and mysterious.

smiling is better than being
numb
and serious.

living your best life is better than being
somber
and enigmatic.

smile in photos.
laugh with your friends.
scream at concerts.
dance at parties --
or even at the store
when a good song
echoes through the speakers.

be you.

not this
nonchalant,
mysterious,
serious,
numb,
somber
and enigmatic
version of you.

because its not you.

i possess misfortune.

in many ways.

it feels like
all that occurs
is my fault,
the unfortunate events
of forgetting,
falling,
foolishness,
anger,
anxiety,
apprehension,
p­eople leaving,
people crying,
people dying --
is all my misfortune.

my fault.

in many ways.

i dread talking the truth,
letting those words flow out
of my brain
and out my mouth.

it's seldom.

i dont speak my truth,
i am never honest
with my real feelings.

wont it just hurt people?

i stare into
your sapphire eyes,
communicating your true feelings
without truly
speaking.

they tell me everything i need to know,
what you really think.
about everyone,
the world,
about me.

...

i stare into
your sapphire eyes,
they stopped talking awhile ago.
you've gone completely
numb.

she danced slowly,
hand holding the blue-ink pen,
words flowing...
...and flowing
onto the page
with practiced ease.

a loud but quiet plea
to the people who surround.
"help me,
im stuck in a forever loop
of my own thoughts!
they just
won't
stop"

i watched gently.
sitting in a quiet corner
of the book filled library,
watching her.

not in a creepy way,
in a worried way.

i've seen the stuff
she tends to write,
it worries me.

it worries me
to the point i can't
stop
thinking
about
it.

about
her.

sometimes a few words
can make a real
difference
in someones
life.

theres no wrong answer
to what poetry is.

"poetry is rhyming"

wrong.
there is actually a
wrong
answer.

poems are little windows,
a view inside
someones head.

it doesn't have to rhyme,
it doesn't always have to provoke
feelings.

its just words,
that are there
to help
*someone

why do we dream?
why do we miss people?
why this
why that
just...
why.

you stare at me
from across the room,
like im your rival.

im still not sure
if you hate me
or just dislike me.

maybe you're just waiting
for me
to trip
so you can say --

"i told you so"

we could've been friends --
could've been more than.

what did i do
to get put in this position?
do you even hate me?
am i a rival to you?

because im too tired
of pretending
that there's nothing here.
because the silence
is too loud,
it burns my head.

i want to work this out,
where the static
can turn
to rhythm.

when the silence
finally
vanishes
and the burning
stops.

i need:

kanzi apples

unselfishness

grapes

tomatoes

pasta --

shell pasta.

no i want spaghetti

shell pasta.

potatoes

cucumber

a new brain,

tell it to stop thinking about the

what ifs

and the why nots.

maybe also grab some bread.

dreams,
let them float
to you.

don't try
to make them
into something
you wish
to dream about.

just let
the universe
decide.

she's taking over my life
day and night --
twenty-four / seven.

i thought you said
that you would listen
to anything
i would have to say.
that you --
were my safe space.

maybe not anymore.

she won't stop,
onto the next person
only seconds
after the last.

"it's the chase, isn't it?"
i asked her
on one
soft,
slow,
boring
morning --
where her reply was quick
and short.

"i don't date."

it was the
thrill,
excitement,
the fun
of it all.

with each switch,
she left someone
broken
and hurt
more than what they
already were.

we all have opinions.
no matter how
seemingly "tough",
and "cool" you may be --
we all have atleast one.

controversial ones maybe.

though your opinion
should never be
hateful towards one's
happiness
or
body.

yes, we all have opinions.
but it's not your
happiness.
and it's certainly
not
your
body.

it's not your responsibility
to comment on it.

so don't.

why would you?

what kind of sick,
twisted mind
do you have
where you would
need to comment
on that?

its not my fault.
i didnt do anything wrong,
it was all
you.

it feels like you've
carefully planned this.
every millisecond,
making me
feel like the guilty one.

im not.
its not my fault.

your intention was to hurt me.
and you succeeded,
with a bonus of
making me feel
guilty.

was it selfish
when i chose
to end our friendship
because
you
grew to become
toxic?

i was saving myself.
that's not selfish.
it's self awareness.

i didn't deserve
a toxic friendship.

i regret not making more friends.
i regret not sitting at more lunch tables.
i regret the glances that i didn’t return.
i regret the smiles i let pass like strangers.
i regret thinking that one friend was enough.
i regret pretending that silence made me strong.
i regret staying home when they invited me out.
i regret overthinking every introduction.
i regret the way i let anxiety speak for me.
i regret deleting numbers instead of reaching out to people.
i regret waiting for them to speak first.
i regret being afraid of being too much.
i regret leaving group chats before they knew me.
i regret the hallways I walked like a ghost.
i regret the versions of me they never got to meet.
the point is --
i regret a lot of things,
about not making friends.
especially that.

but it was my fault
after all.

i know i should've
said something to her
when the time was right.
i should've told her
on the day
that the sun had
hit her face
just
right.
or when she laughed
at something
only i would've noticed.

i had the words.
i really did --
they sat
on the tip of my tongue,
sort of like a secret,
one hoping
to be brave.

but i swallowed the words.
again --
and again.
over --
and over.
until they had eventually
turned into silence
that hurt more
than speaking the truth
ever would have.

she now tells me
about him,
i just have to smile --
pretend im okay,
pretend im listening,
with a small nod
here
and
there.

i say im happy for her.
but gosh...
i wish she had known
that i loved her
first.
i wish she had known
that i loved her
quietly,
and completely,
even if
i hadn't ever
said it
out
loud.

mysteries third project, a peek into a girls notes, is six notes that mysterie had turned into poems.

this is a vulnerable project, one that she hopes to connect with people through on many levels.

a peek into a girls notes;
- The Crush
- The Friends
- guilty?
- Grocery shopping list
- dreams 👻
- why write? why bother.

the link to read all: https://listofregrets.straw.page

my third project!

welcome "a peek into a girls notes"

bts:
little bit of bts about this project.



this project was originally meant to be a "list" of all the regrets i have. it was meant to be twelve parts.

not long after starting, i stopped.

all together.

until a week (exactly) later i was in class,

heard my teacher speak about "intensity of light" and sound waves and whatnot.

i never listen in science, so this interesting me was new.

and i knew i had to write. so i did.



and i have just now decided to finish this project in one sitting.

it's no longer a twelve part piece.

instead nine - or six. i don't remeber already haha

but i finished it in one sitting.

now it's just a notes app.

a peek into a girls notes app.



random poems.

regrets.

lists.

questions to the universe.



thank you!

- mysterie.

put on the act,
put on the show --
it's all a lie.
nothing's real anymore.

lie and
mask your feelings.

hide your true self.

put on that act.
all
day.

put on that show.
until
you
bleed
to
death.

i used to think
that i just had
awful luck.

the kind where you feel
like everything you do
is an inconvenience to everyone.
and you just can't seem
to stop
making things
go wrong.

like the other day,
i straightened my hair --
and it just started raining
the moment
i got outside.

or how last month,
i made a mistake at work
and just that moment,
my boss walked in.

or two years ago.
my best friend had left me
over a petty,
little,
stupid argument that
should've never happened
in the first place.

but i didn't just have
awful luck.

the puzzle pieces,
were slowly coming
together --
after awhile at least.
it never happens in the blink
of an eye.

i grew to love my natural hair.

the borders of it
were first,
slowly forming --

i still had my job.

clicking together.
i didn't pay any mind,
it didn't occur to me just yet
what was happening.

then the second border --

i met my best friend.

and i slowly began
to consider the idea
that there was
a meaning for this.

no, i'm not sure
if i believe in heaven
or hell,
or if theres a lord above.

but i do know
someone's there
either way.

putting together
everyone's puzzles.

i knew that i felt love when i met my bestfriend.

i knew that i felt love when i met my first pet.

i knew that i felt love when i heard my new favourite song.

i knew that i felt love when i went to my first concert.

i knew that i felt love when i met one of my favourite artists.

i knew that i felt love when i hugged my mum.

i knew that i felt love when i sat down and ate dinner with my family.

love isn't just romantic.
it can be platonic.
and sometimes
it's even more special that way.

let yourself be loved,
and love other people
and things you enjoy.

in the context of
light,
the intensity refers to
the amount of power
that is being emitted.

i sometimes use this as a metaphor,
to say someone is
powerful.
they have the intensity
of light,
and if its too bright
it can blind you,
or others.

and it will hurt them
but they wouldn't even know,
because its too bright
and they're too blind
too see that
something has
that much power.

friendships are hard.
i think they always will be.

it's about
finding that in between
balance
of love,
care,
and annoying one another.

i can never seem
to find that in between.

either they
annoy me too much
and i don't speak up --
because im scared ill
hurt them,
or i care too much
and it slowly,
very slowly,
pushes them away.

or maybe im too
quiet.
not loud enough.
i am loud though --
once you know me.

i know they're
not meant to
be this difficult.
but i always feel
as though im
in the middle of
trios
and groups.

or that i distance myself
too much
even when i need to be
distanced from the noise.

it'll get better.
hopefully.
eventually.

some people find
each other
again
after a few years.

but if not,
there's plenty of people
for me
to get to know
and become friends with.

its not my fault.
i didnt do anything wrong,
it was all
you.

it feels like you've
carefully planned this.
every millisecond,
making me
feel like the guilty one.

im not.
its not my fault.

your intention was to hurt me.
and you succeeded,
with a bonus of
making me feel
guilty.

“it should be.”
being afraid --
it’s not a thrilling feeling,
not a rush,
not something
that anyone asks for.
it’s a heavy,
and eerie kind of silence.
not knowing what’s next,
who will speak,
who will leave,
when it ends --
or if it even will.
no one knows.

being afraid
feels like your insides
are twisting
trying to strangle themselves.

not butterflies --
but knots,
tight and mean,
it's your body sounding the alarms
in the only way it knows how.
a sickness that whispers,
“brace yourself,”
for something
that might not
even come.

lillies.
they're pretty.

i see them
on my morning walks --
they adorn the footpath.

im about to buy some
in a boquet,
tied in with some tulips
and leaves as spacers.

they're for my new partner.

but whenever i see
these lillies,
i can only
think
of
you.

maybe because your essence
was just like the lily's --
you were elegant,
compassionate,
and you loved everyone
with the biggest
heart and smiles.

i know its wrong,
to still think of you.

but these lillies --
they're everywhere i go.
i wouldn't take it as a sign
but i know it means
something.

i shouldn't be buying these
for my new partner,
she isn't elegant
like you,
or have a big smile
like you did,
so why do i buy them?
or walk the same footpath
every morning
just
to
see
them?

i don't know.

it wasn't my fault.
i didn't mean to,
i swear.
i would never go
out of my way --
intentionally,
to upset you like that.
i hate seeing you like that!

why do you think i did it?
do you really think
that little of me?

i would never hurt you
because i wanted to.
i never want to.

we learn
the abcs
by repeating them.
we learn
how to do things right
by doing them
every day.
so why is it
so hard
to learn kindness?
don’t we
repeat it
every day?

life is beautiful --
but you can't find
the beauty 
in the world,
in your life,
if you're not looking,
or admiring
the space
around you
and within others.

i wasn't searching
for anything --
until i started searching for
love,
only then
i begun to find
little heart shapes
in everything.

bread, 
street cracks,
pages in schoolbooks,
doorways,
steak,
fabric folds, 
car reflections,
freckles --
even those.

i thought
i was losing it --
seeing things.
until i realised,
i was searching for love,
and love
was finding me
the most unique places.
and it was beautiful.

so start looking
around you --
at the little things,
in the quiet.
maybe then
you'll find something
that helps you
heal
and find the beauty
in living 
and something
that reminds you
why living
matters.