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Lunar  Feb 2014
teenage wasteland
Lunar Feb 2014
we fall in love too easily
and fall apart faster
we love too serious
and hate much stronger
we cry over anything
especially boybands and boys
we judge other girls
with one flick of a hand
we eat too much
junk food and desserts
we sleep for too long
and hibernate on our days
we spend thousands
be it on make-up, clothes, or gadgets

all these left us drunk
we think tomorrow's hazy

how do we get sober again?
how do we face reality?
Ellie Stelter  Nov 2013
Ctrl
Ellie Stelter Nov 2013
I used to bury myself in huge jackets.
I'd mope about and hate my curvy body,
hate the way my lips puffed,
my long hair, the way I was soft all over,
the way I was expected to shave
everything but my face.

I used to hate makeup and dresses,
girly movies and shoes and bobby pins.
I hated boybands. I hated pink things.
It took me a long time to realize that
I didn't actually hate these things.
I hated women.

Femininity was lesser. I was not good enough
because of my two X chromosomes,
because of my *****, because of my period.
I was weaker. I was stupider. I was
statistically less likely to succeed,
less likely to be important,
less likely to be loved.

These things weren't right. They were never true.
But it didn't matter, because nine-year-old me
believed them. My opinion didn't start to change
until I was thirteen and I wore a pretty dress
as a character in a home movie we were making
and I walked down the stairs and my friends
whispered whoa.

I began to understand then the power I had.
As a girl I was never lesser. I was never weaker.
Maybe physically, but that was more my personality,
and all those lies I'd told myself about success
about my importance about love
I began to reconsider.
I thought hey wait hold on
this can't be right, I'm not stupid, I'm not weak,
I'm not ugly and I'm not fat
and I'm not any of these things because
I'm a girl.

When I started to see myself as worthy of
other peoples' love, I realized I should love myself.
I don't hide my femininity away in huge jackets anymore.
I don't walk down the street fearful
of the people walking past who seem stronger.
Because in my lipstick and my cute heels,
I am in total control.
endlessnights Jun 2013
happiness
what is happiness
are you happy
am i happy
what is happiness
....
sunshine
flowers
palm trees
hot chocolate
warm blankets
fresh cookies
snuggling
good books
fluffy kitties
music
boybands
good friends
loving family
inside jokes
shopping
waves
sleeping
movie nights
rainbows
new shoes
cartoons
christmas time
....
thats happiness in my eyes
whats happiness in your eyes
Ashley Mar 2014
here's the thing:

I.
i don't want to drive.
i hate it; i hate the idea of trying to reign in
this metal machine and forcing it to drag me from place to place,
choking out fumes and polluting life and being in charge
of my own destiny. i need to be able to hide behind "my mom can't
take me" as an escape clause, and you can't do that with a license.

II.
what's the point of living when there's more
seasons of teen wolf on the way, weeks worth of movies
i've never seen, millions of books that i may never
get to read, dozens of which currently reside on my own
bookshelf? if i could win the lottery tomorrow, college would be
for fun, and not for a career. i'd buy a movie theater and move it to my
new mansion, where i would hold free screenings because it's nice.
i'd watch every single thing on netflix and have a pantry designated
solely for nutella. what's the point of growing up when everything i want
is right here?

III.
in theory, new york city is the place i want to go. but i want to live
in the rich end, where the buildings and people are. the idea
of a ratty apartment -- literally -- is more than i can bear.
once, my dad killed a mouse and i cringed away from its lifeless body
inside a ziploc bag. how could i coexist with rats? leave out plates of my food
in hopes that they might not try and steal what i already had? why would i go
live in the city of dreams anyway, when my only one is to forget
about you?

IV.
look, high school is ****** enough. having to go to college in just two years?
why even bother? yes, please let me start over somewhere else
where i'll be completely out of depth and clueless all over again,
not to mention desperately lonely. sounds gloriously enchanted.
and yes, please let me waste THOUSANDS of dollars
on education for (at least) four years
despite the fact that i'm not good enough at anything i enjoy, nor
do i enjoy anything that would keep me rich and set for life. besides,
what's the point if you aren't there?

V.
is the wizarding world of harry potter hiring? can i just work there?
no? i don't know how to get a job. i don't know where to get a job.
i don't even want a job, just the paycheck, but you have to work to get paid.
i'd really like to sit around with unlimited money supplies
and go to all the concerts i want with a limo to
drive me around the world and private jets to shoot me
from country to country. unfortunately, or fortunately, i wasn't born rich.
i might have fared well with a removable silver spoon in my mouth,
but i wouldn't have become who i am now.

VI.
seriously, i know i'm young, but this prince charming and true love stuff
is nothing but lies, right? you can keep trying to fool me and trick me
into thinking otherwise, but it's unrealistic. i mean, there isn't a soul
alive who would willingly sit and watch tangled with me
or write me a love-anything. c'mon.
i'm a teenager, not the impressionable youth
you take me to be.

VII.
what the hell am i even doing here? do all teenagers feel like this?
i don't have a single talent to offer this world, or any person,
and i'm so self destructive that it's no wonder
i haven't accidentally caused the end
of everything around me. my room is a mess;
i can't be bothered to do my hair or hang up my clothes,
and i barely take care of myself.
and you want me to become an adult?
to grow up and make something of this
****** up world? i can barely keep my shoes tied.
i can't even drive yet. and i spend my days crying
over boybands and people i don't even know.

here's the thing:

VIII.
i'm selfish. i'm smart but incredibly naive. and
i know i'm disillusioned right now. i also know that it'll (hopefully)
end up alright in the end, and i'll smile at my younger self writing these
poems because younger me "didn't have a clue."
but right now, it feels like endless learning for a whole bunch of nothing.
but there is a part of me that's infinitely hopeful, or maybe infinitely
moronic. i don't know yet.
so here's looking to this generation, one full of ****** up kids
with ****** up ancestors. let's try and make the future better
and make the most of now, because it will never
come back.
My name is Ryan
Im currently 18yrs old.
I live in a tiny country called New Zealand
Extrovert by nature
I'm happily dating someone younger than me and couldnt care less about societies opinion on her ♡

This is who I am

So I walk a little different
So I'm a little more feminine
So I'm overly charismatic
So I'm into weird things
So I'm romantic and cheesy mixed with cliché

This is who I am

So what I have almost as many photos of Korean boybands as I do my beautiful partner
So what I watch Japanese anime even though I don't speak nearly any Japanese
So what I sit inside all day and game
So what I'm a massive star wars nerd

*This is who I am
And there isn't a thing or person that will change that
This is who I am, and im proud of it
Anais Vionet  Dec 2022
gazes
Anais Vionet Dec 2022
Leong's watching TikTok on her laptop (as always) and she asks Lisa (a NYC girl) “Are you familiar with the the “downtown girl” aesthetic?”
Lisa’s dismissive, “Yeah, it just looks like Urban Outfitters grunge to me.”
Leong explains, “It includes headphones and it’s supposed to be a Lower Manhattan style.”
“Yeah,” Lisa snorts, “Because Greenwich Village and the Lower East Side are SO cohesive.”

Lisa considers herself an Uptown girl (like the song) even though 59th Street, where she lives, is the border between Uptown and Midtown Manhattan. I’m learning that these distinctions are culturally key to New Yorkers.

“And,” Lisa adds, “why would someone wear, and lug around, giant, clunky headphones when you can use AirPods??”
“Amen sister.” I proclaim and even Leong nods in agreement.

“Later, Sunny, Leong and I are on a study break, eating salads and talking about who we hope Yale invites to the next “Spring Fling” concert. We aren’t being realistic; we’re covering who we wish would come. I’d named Charlie Puth, “Kat-Tun!” Leong squealed (A Japanese boy band - apparently Chinese girls LOVE their boybands) and Sunny countered with Ed Sheeran.

“I don’t like Ed Sheeran,” I mumbled, making a yuck-face.
“Why no Ed?” Sunny gasps with shock (She’s a big Ed fangirl).
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “he’s a star by all measurable metrics,” I admit, “but,” I fade out.
“You want my theory on Ed hate?” Sunny offered, “He’s beyond talented vocally - whoever your favorite artist is, Ed’s probably not that far behind. He’s a stellar song writer and he’s making hit after hit; do you want my theory?”
“Too basic, too popular?” I guess.
“No, he’s not appealing to the gaze,” Sunny states.
“The gays?” Leong questions, stepping back into the conversation.
“No,” Sunny corrects, “the gaze - G-A-Z-E, he doesn’t try to look pretty all the time.”
“Ha!” I snort, “Gaze, I thought you meant gays too,” as Leong and I chuckle together.
“No,” Sunny laughs, “nothing like THAT. Ed’s just not trying to be a heartthrob, he knows that’s not his core strong point - and that’s why he’s discounted.”
“Like lesbians don’t comb their hair or wear makeup and wear pajamas to class” Leong observes, “they don’t want to attract the male gaze?”
“No, we’re not imbued by the male gaze.” Sunny states, “Ed just wants to lowkey.”
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Imbued: “influenced naturally”
solfang Dec 2017
the school bell rings sharply
at nine-twenty in the morning,
echoes across the classroom,
are the usual 'Selamat Pagi, cikgu'.

fast forward to nine-forty,
boring lessons and classes
requires essay crafting
and dream jobs listing,
instead, we wrote fan letters
to be the filial wives of
members from boybands

fast forward to noon,
we were hooked on stories,
from breakups of social divas
to everyone's future college plans.
those were the days,
that should never end.

fast forward to today,
it's now nine-twenty,
greetings for teachers,
are now meetings with bosses,
essays are now reports,
compadres are now colleagues.

memories are the sweet
in the word 'bittersweet',
and I'm starting
to miss the taste,
every time the clock strikes
exactly at nine-twenty.
I really, really miss my high-school mates.
Piper Calvey Sep 2020
I always tried to explain.
"I'm sick"
"I'm sorry"
"I'm trying"

But she doesn't know. How would she? She knows boybands and finger hearts and working just hard enough.

That's not her fault (its really not) but it's easier to be angry, indignant than whatever I really am.

Her words and hate and the ever-present ether wrap around me and I can't tear them off so I go for the shirt (this is what my mother would later use as my benchmark for crazy) and the sound of tiny threads coming through tiny loops lasts a joyous second and I can breath and I am gone.

I am back and I remember that the words and hate and doom are still there and now with them is a symbol of just how wrong my self is.

I sit motionless but I'm running.

I kept the carcass for months. In a corner out of sight, to be seen but only by the trained eye.
Some days it was scolding but some days it was proof, a purple heart, a trophy of battles lost.

Some days I miss it. In my mind it's hanging from the rafters (not in the dead way).  It's the retired jersey of an athlete who in the end wasn't very good but oh she tried to be.

— The End —