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.

run
run
run --
run away as fast
as you possibly can.
get away.
get out of that place.

you don't know the
horrors of being there
like i do.

trust me,
and run.
run
run
run.
as fast as you can.

get away
before you
make it out
barely breathing.

covered in blood,
missing a limb,
open wounds,
a pounding headache,
a swollen ankle --
just run no matter
what it takes.

you don't understand
the horror
like i do.

i toss and turn,
unable to sleep
away from you --
you,
my safe place.

my home.

what happens after death?
no one really knows.
and honestly --
i don't think
i want to know.

some say
you go to heaven.
or hell.

others like to believe in
the afterlife,
in ghosts,
in wandering,
in haunting what's
left behind.

but me?
i just like to think
its just
that it's a kind of closure.
one thats quiet,
and final.
the kind that doesnt need
to be explained.

this feeling of
upset,
frustrated,
sad,
misunderstood,
mad --
just makes me want
to rip my hair out of my head
and punch something.

knowing i full well
do not have the strength
to do
either.

i would break my knuckles
punching something,
and hurt my hands trying to
pull all my hair out.

im too weak.
that's what this was all about anyway,
im mad because im weak,
im sad because im too quiet,
im frustrated because no one hears me!
no one truly understands
my brain
and that will never change
no matter what i do.

no one but me is in here.

i feel things loudly,
and it feels like
im being swallowed
by multiple intense
feelings
all at
once.

and it's just too much,
for one girl.
one brain.
one heart.
one voice.

it makes me want to yank my hair out
and punch something
until my knuckles are red and ******.

shes all i think about
day and night --
twenty-four / seven.
she's always
on my mind.

interstate,
but im still calling.
she always answers late,
never in the mood.
and she wont wait --
not for me.
and not for anyone.

she's infecting my dreams,
shes rewriting my thoughts,
even changing my music
into sappy love songs
i swore i hated.

she's taken over
my life,
my breath,
my hours --
day and night,
twenty-four / seven.

im tempted --
to dial your number,
to send that text,
to drive to yours,
to run into your arms.

im tempted.
because i miss you.
i miss your warmth,
your scent --
that cold vanilla
and lavender scent
that was yours,
and only yours.

but most of all
im tempted
to just cry.
crying over you
sounds like a waste of tears.
but it'll just 
have to do.
because for now,
its all i have.
and you're not here.

...and i don't think
you'll be coming
back.

hey,
future me.
it's july seventh.
and this year has
definetly been one
for the books.

im lucky enough
to still have the friends
i do
because everybody
started turning their backs
on eachother.
and that made me very
anxious
to lose someone
i love.

america might be slowly
dying a painful death.
the climate too.
australia is
or was
trying to follow in
america's footsteps.
women are slowly
losing
their rights.
a possible war.

it's not the greatest time
to be alive.
but it could be worse,
and honestly,
i think that's the only way
im getting through it.
because,
i have it good.
some people don't have
what i do.
and it makes me feel
horrible
when i realise
im taking it all for granted.

i hope the air is safer
a few years from now.
i hope america has
a better life.
i hope women have
their rights.
i hope the earth
isn't suffering so bad
from the climate crisis.

but i can only hope.
and draft this text.

im not even mad anymore --
im just just
tired
of your antics.
you twisted things
so well
that i actually
started to believe
that i was the villain
in my own story.

you were loud,
but somehow,
im the one that
they stopped
listening to.
it's funny
how that works, huh?

i wont send this.
because you would
more than likely --
just turn it into another reason
to prove me wrong.
but honestly,
youre not worth my voice
anymore.

hey,
im not quite sure
how to say this.
ive typed it a hundred times
and deleted it
every time.
i like girls.
i don't quite know what that
changes for you --
but it doesn't change who ive
always been.
im still me.
still your daughter.
i just finally wanted to tell you
the truth about myself.
even if it's scaring the **** out of me.
especially if you don't understand,
i hope one day,
you'll still see me
the same.
just more...
whole.
more real.
and more
me.

but im not sending this.
im not ready.

i know that we're drifting.
i don't want to think its real.
i don't want to know what happens to us.
our friendship --
meant so much.
i'd hate to lose it.
i don't want that.
i want us to stay close,
stay friends.
i just need you in my life.

i need to tell you about all the gossip --
all my crushes,
all my weird fashion choices.
i need to tell you,

because i don't want to drift.

i don't exactly know
why im writing this --
maybe just to say it out loud somewhere.
you probably don't even notice the way i look at you. or maybe you do, but you just don't say anything. which somehow,
hurts worse.
its stupid, really. how a simple glance from you can rearrange my whole day. you laugh and i swear that it sounds like something that i've been trying to commit to my memory forever.
i don't need you to like me back --
i think that i just needed you to know the truth.
and maybe that's selfish, maybe that's brave, maybe it's both.
but either way,
im not sending this.
ill just keep on pretending its nothing. like i always do.