im-sorry-im-tryying

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

I used to pretend my life was a movie but lately it just feels like a fever dream. Prozac Nation, Girl Interrupted, Virgin Suicides to name a few. I relate to Daisy heavily because she "got better" right? I found footprints within Cecelia's scars even though she was the first to go; I've followed the footsteps with all these other damsels of the silver screen. Us damsels, we take the art of dying and for fucks sake we do it incredibly well. It's our own personal hell. So for now I guess the tape stops here, let the credits roll, queue the end of my movie, ring the funeral bells.

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

Sometimes, I think about what I’m having for dinner But then Ana tells me to not. She says that Painkillers are on tonights menu . She tells me that I am weighted and worthless but I know that deep down Ana is just trying to help. She writes the words “F-A-T” on my forehead all big & bold. I walk around, shamed of the letters but I know it’s just consequence from last night’s buffet of a bender. I. Deserve. This. My friend Alena said I looked pretty today. My mind sat quiet because Ana spoke instead. She told me that I am not loved, just love-handles and weights. Tonight I feel like a carcass. I am sad and scared. My chest feels  hollow and my stomach’s a hole. But Ana says to drink water. It’ll surely come and then go. I feel like a prisoner. Not to Ana, but to myself. My body’s a cadaver but Ana’s encouragement really helps. 

#ana #journal entry #my writing #poem #ed #please eat #cassie #cassie ainsworth #skins uk #cassie skins #anoressic

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

04-14-21

Everything I’ve ever wanted, I always seem to rip away from myself. - like my subconscious knows I’m undeserving so she pulls all the good things away at my fingertips. I try my hardest to blame her, to puff out my chest and tell her she’s not welcome inside anymore; that she's ruining my chances at happiness and if she knows anything about anything then she’d better leave my body and find another host to call home. I try my hardest to blame her but somehow I don't. I don’t puff my chest outward, I don’t remove my welcome mat, I don’t speak up thunderstorms and my shell of a body stays calloused; It stays cracked. I don't harness this courage because deep down I know that we are kindred spirits; two of a kind. I am her Jeckyl and she, my Mr. Hyde. We’d be constantly battling if I could just muster up a voice. But when I open my mouth to speak, she clasps her grimy hands over my lips to remind me that I don't deserve that right.

#Journal Entry #my thoughts #sorry for being depressing #self concious #ana #ed

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

Simon & Halbig’s Antiques

Last night, I dreamt of you prying the stuffing from my heart;

How you spat on my carcass while my stitching fell apart;

How my dark eyes went beady & my porcelain was cracked

Once your top-shelf-dolly, under floorboards I'm now trapped.

With no eulogy in writing, I’m a corpse of a doll. 

no noose to cut loose, just a plaything that’s all.

-Lauren Michelle

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

In The Golden Afternoon.

Cigarette butts paint the moss garden floor,

I put picket fences where he walked out the door.

Yet still I cry for more flowers to grow,

This garden’s forgotten. She died long ago,

So I bury myself. Beneath steppingstones, I rot

The vines, they cradle me, but he simply does not.

- Lauren Michelle

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

getting lost in the garden, having vintage tea parties, gardening roses, walking in the long light dress, playing hide-and-seek and setting Shakespearean plays

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

Journal Entry 04-08-20 

A Letter to Thomas

I would get drunk & call your number. I’d go through old polaroids and burn them to a crisp. Your face was the blueprint and all those tiny little freckles, I just wanted to forget. I would kiss strangers at parties. I wished I was kissing you but sometimes I just wished you were staring at me from across the room. You’d probably be standing by the beer tap, my own personal wallflower. I would eat ice cream and pour my heart out like honey. The taste reminded me of when we tripped on mushrooms. You doused mine in vanilla cookie-dough. Could you taste the psychedelic on my lips? Every time I stare at my nightstand, I remember how we’d chain smoke in my bedsheets after sex. How you taught me to hand-make an ashtray & how I learned that you smoked blue Spirits not black. Now blue’s a color I can never forget. It reminded me of our trip to Arizona where I loved you from the passenger seat and you drove miles just for the nicotine.  I’d read Kafka in my bedroom. I’d think of how you called me Anna Karenena. I was your doll of a mess, every writer's daydream. I hated the fact that I was just your wet-dream. I thought about your voice and I thought about your lips. I thought about your hands and the callus of your grip. I thought about all these things and back then I really didn’t want to die. I didn’t want you to forget me so I leaned over and asked you to write about me. I’d be your Anna Karenena; immortal even in death. I didn’t think you’d ever write it down but I sometimes think you already did. I hoped the story was of forbidden lovers but we both know I was always the damsel who’d kill herself soon after you left.

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

I left a void in my chest overnight. I was told it’d be gone now but my gut feels so tight. 

I lay my heart down beside me; I keep it locked in a chest. It cries while in hiding, while my head lays to rest.

I hear voices in my bedroom of an unwanted past. It’s haunting yet not fleeting, it continues to last.

When you’re without a heart, the blood bleeds blue & not red. So you see why I lock mine. I’m still dreaming that I’m dead. 

-Lauren Michelle

(CURRENTLY EDITING) ^^

#sadbeautifultragic #female writers #newblog #poem #female poets #sad quotes #sadness #heartbreak #love #journal #journaling #my writing #writing #2 am thoughts #thoughts #sad poetry

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

03-13-20

I’ve fallen in love with so many broken boys that I’m not quite sure how I’ve managed to stitch myself back together.

-Lauren Michelle

#original art #mine #sadness #heartbreak #stitching #stitches #sad poem #sad poetry #sad quotes #my art #you broke my heart #im okay #recovery #mentalstrength #mental breakdown #mental heath support #self care #self love

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

Sincerely, Your Beloved Monster // journal entry 02-13-20

When you told me that you loved me, I let the phrase brush past the tips of my fingers even though I felt it full-force flowering out of the deepest parts of my soul; parts of me that I don’t think anyone else has ever been able to go. And it was strange for me to accept that within one beautiful month, you’ve managed to pull back layers of me that hadn’t ever met anyone elses gaze. I’d never met anyone else who really understood. Every person that told me I “had a beautiful mind” never understood its storm. And yes, my mind is a messy, jumbled up storm made up of messy, jumbled up thoughts. But the mess in my own & it’s still so beautiful and just as deserving. It’s creative and intelligent and it can’t seem to stop thinking about you. I always thought the way the tracks in my brain worked was a mystery and that all the souls I’ve tried to pour myself into never really understood her. But you’ve unraveled her perfectly. You’ve somehow managed to pick apart, see, & understand the tracks in my mind even though she’s weird, she ticks right instead of left & she can be a little bit wonky. You know her and despite all her quirks, you love her. My mind is a crazy rollercoaster ride of mystery. And I don’t know why & I don’t know how but I feel like yours is too. I feel like you’re a little bit like me. I feel like there are tiny little pieces in you that are also inside me & I sometimes feel like your body’s makeup coexists within mine. I sometimes think that sounds utterly crazy but then I realize it feels honest and it feels real. I know I don’t know all of you yet but oh god I want to. I want to know how the tracks in your brain tick because I think they tick like mine. I think your mind is also just as messy, it’s also jumbled and it’s So. God. Damn. Beautiful. I want to pull back every layer that’s never dared to be pulled back & I swear I’m going to love every inch of every layer of it because I am so so fucking in love with you.

-Lauren Michelle 02-13-20

#i love you #love #letters #love notes #first love #in love #romance #forever #myforever #soulmate

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

February-

I wish the weight of the world felt like raindrops.

Life could never feel so heavy,

if only the dew of emotion just barely brushed me.

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

2 Years, June

He took me to Julian, California; a small pioneer town just before county lines.

A historical landmark where time seems to stand still and all clocks appear to have stopped ticking. A place where ‘time’ is simply a construct.

It ceases to exist.

We walked through graveyards, antique stores, and tiny little bookhouses. We left our mark in the form of Apple pie crumbs on a small, two-person dining booth.

Or maybe it left a mark on us.

It’s funny how this place always seems to hearten me. It always seems to stay the same. Centuries old and yet wise beyond its years. She is a time-piece that stands still

She stays there

existing

Even when the world itself ticks like clockwork and we are all just passing through.

-Lauren Michelle

#small town romance #small town stories #applepie #retrostyle #romance #vintage #female writers #female poets #poem #nostaliga #happylife #love #quaint #diner aesthetic #aestehtic #mywriting #original art #feelings #postivevibes

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

6:30 AM // Tuesday // January 7, 2020

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

It’s 2 o’ clock in the morning.

My apartment feels uncomfortably cold & I have to work my day job the next morning.

I’m lying on the left side of the bed. There’s a glass of cold water on top my nightstand and a rusted razor inside the dresser drawer.

I think about picking it up and slicing myself open But then I realize I’m twenty and I have to let my teenage-self go.

When you’re sad and fourteen, you’ve got all the time in the world to hurt yourself in crooked ways. But when you’re twenty years old and feeling awful amounts of empty, you can’t afford the theatrics of being a melodramatic little thing

So you decide to carve in an extra hour of sleep in hopes that your morning coffee will fill that vacancy.

-Lauren Michelle

#sadness #sad poetry #sadbeautifultragic #female writers #female poets #poem #my poetry #femalepoet #loveyourself #poetry #original poetry #2 am thoughts #thoughts #honestly though #trying #recovery #sleepy #i just want to sleep #sleeping with sirens

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

(EDITING IN PROGRESS)

Trauma can drug you too //Journal Entries from an Amnesiac:

My Body Is Not A Home

And ever since you buried yourself inside me, I’ve remained a casket.

I‘ve remained a prisoner in my own body , a corpse who’s still feeling, an inferno of hostility because you haven’t paid the price that I was held down, forced & gagged out to pay.

Then I blamed myself for not trying — as if I wasn’t fighting.

I’m always thinking about fighting..

Would you have held me down harder? For longer? Would you have locked me in and then choked me the fuck out? Was I screaming? Hurting? Please. I don’t remember.

“You. Stupid. Fucking. Bitch.” It’s my only certainty you spat.

I don’t know if I was really there that night but I swear to god I just wanted to go. home.

-Lauren Michelle

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

🌿🌹 punakettu77 🌿🌹 

[im-sorry-im-tryying]

I Couldn’t Stop Screaming // I Should’ve Been Screaming

I often wonder why it aroused you when you slipped your fingers inside me.

— Why you planted peach pits inside the the knots of my stomach where there should’ve been cherry seeds, or why you pinned down my hollowed out body so I couldn’t make a run for the front door.

Sometimes, I wonder if you thought it was fun when my eyes went lifelessly blank. Or if you liked the fact that when you spat me out, my insides oozed with a bloodbath of honey-like textures (as if the chokehold you had me in was a consensual gesture). I often wonder if you thought that when your tentacle hands wrapped around my tiny, little tentacle neck, was I going to snap?

Cause I did. Oh god, I did.