june

the lightbulbs flicker, and the sky comes down. i shiver; as fingers trace down my spine. i don’t wanna go to sleep now…

i wanna write, or maybe edit. i wanna make a cake, i wanna do the dishes. i wanna cling to you like a lifeline, and never let go. i want to have your hand in mine, and the wind in my hair, i want to get out of here.

i want to write a pretentious essay, about capitalism or moral philosophy. i want to clean my glasses, and go on long walks in the forest. i want to let the stars swallow me whole.

but the sky is dark. and it doesn’t give a shit. your heart is black, and your lies are white, but i’m tired of seeing the world in 1920’s monochrome.

i want to breathe a thousand different shades into the candlelight, i want to watch the world explode. grains of sand and toxic gas, i want it all.

but my mind is gummy, and old. i’m so tired, my love. and i hate the cold hard fact, that i don’t know how to fix you.

i just wanna sleep until june. i want hot chocolate and birthday presents, i want picnic baskets and sunny afternoons; just a moment of peace…

i want you to blow out the candles, and tuck me into bed. wish me a good night, kiss me on the forehead. and close the door behind you.


So, this isn’t surprising to anyone, but I’ve been thinking a lot about the future of late, and in general just been in a super weird place. I go between frenetic and excited to panicking to just feeling apathetic and hopeless to sobbing on the floor, and it’s exhausting.

I’m planning to graduate next year; that’s a pretty firm plan at this point. (Or at least, get to a point where I have enough credits to graduate, and any courses I choose to take from there are just things I want to learn.) Which has been giving me a total life crisis. Part of me feels like a toddler inside, and another part of me feels like I’m thirty years old, which is a headache, and I know what I want to do, but that’s just as much a blessing as it is a curse. Because what I want isn’t always particularly practical, or clear down to the details. I’ve been thinking a lot, about what I want to stand for, and who I want to be going forward–and how I’m gonna make it work.

I’m gonna be okay, I know that. I’m gonna figure out how to be at peace, if it’s the last thing I do.

I guess it’s just a bit scary and overwhelming right now. As much as my relationship with the school system, historically, has been pretty bad, it’s brought me a lot of good things too, and even though this is what I’ve wanted since I was six years old, I still sorta feel sad I’m gonna be saying goodbye to it soon. I can’t remember a time I wasn’t in school, and I don’t really know who I am without it.

But I guess that’s kinda cool. Like, a blank slate–a chance to make something better, in the next phase of my life, and to grow.

Lots of love,

Lorna

december 13th, 2019

i never said this would be easy.

never said you wouldn’t feel like giving up sometimes. because it’s hard, and confusing, and lonely.

never said you’d grow up like the other kids. never said that some days, you wouldn’t cry your eyes out on the bathroom floor just because you exist. never said it wouldn’t take all the strength you have just to get through this. but… look at you. 

you’re doing it. 

you’re growing. stronger, and stronger, and you are steady now. and i don’t think there’s anything in the world that could knock you down forever.

because i think… you’re getting better.


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abyss

static electricity, and flashing neon lights. and i don’t care how i got here. just keep driving. 

and let me cry, like the world is over. cry, because i’m so ridiculously scared of getting better. but for all the times i never said it… i’m proud of you. for how far you’ve come. for all that you’ve lived through.

and there are always gonna be days when you feel like this. when memories haunt you from long-past moments. and you’re surrounded by friends, and yet you still can’t help but feel the aching sting of loneliness.

but it will pass. just like always. and you’ll keep breathing. and you’ll fight. and you’ll win.

because you’re so much more than a sacrifice to this abyss.


A while back a counsellor on a crisis line wanted me to write something for myself that I could read in the moments when I was falling apart, when I didn’t feel worthy of love or anything else–when I wanted to destroy every inch of space I dared to take up. I’ve made a lot of different attempts at that, and, well, I wrote this one on a school computer on a really rough day a couple days ago, and for some reason I am so ridiculously proud of this one.

january 6th, 2020

paperthin doubts. crumbling bones. and don’t you dare try to give me anything resembling a compliment, because if you do i think i might explode.

tired eyes and weak bones. and i’m sorry for crying on your staircase at two in the morning i just feel so alone.  so trapped inside myself. and you’re allowed to take up space in a room, you know.

skeletal fingers and shadows in the night, slamming your eyes closed. because i’ve seen monsters, all right? i’ve been there, and i’ve done that, and nothing you throw at me could possibly compare to the villains that live in my head.

panic attack in the locker bay, mid-block all alone. and fake a smile, okay? say you’re fine when they say hello.

questioning reality. because you’ve never been in anyone’s mind but your own. and this could all just be a stimulation, or a game, or some kind of sick dream. you know?

a heart. cold as stone.


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a good day

a good day(1).png

and maybe i will take lavender baths / because that sounds like something people would do in poetry / and i will go to bed at midnight and wake up at 10a.m. and i will not need coffee to wake up / and i will be calm / and i will not use food as a way of burying my emotions / and i will keep trying /  i will keep writing / sorting through my feelings like puzzle pieces and i will try to go slowly / i will try to shatter myself under the weight of expectation / i will try / and i’ll probably fail half the time / but i’ll try to be the kind of person my therapist would be proud to hear about / the kind of person who knows what they’re doing inside their own mind / and / i will stay up late / writing alternate universes where we are superheroes / listening to the sound of the cicadas / and the keystrokes / and the hope / the small, lonely piece of hope / a car ride and we’re all alone / and i will try and not be swallowed this time / and i will try to figure out who i am without everyone else inside of me / and i will try / and today is international self-care day and i feel like it’s kind of pathetic how terrible i have been at this so far all right / and i will try to love myself as the me i am / or at least figure out what that even looks like right now / and i will try / and i will try and sleep well / enough / well / enough / and breathe / and believe / that i will get through this / eventually / and try not to feel like i’m standing at the edge of some highway with my hand out in the air waiting for someone to pick me up / and the heat is splitting / and my mind is slowly dissolving / and i will try to talk back to my anxiety / and maybe this time / it’ll feel / something like reality


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