It’s Me
Lauren wrote two notes to herself in early 2005. She was already worldly traveler at 12 years old. Not sure why she was upset with Mr. Hameric. Again, she tells herself not to do drugs.
Lauren at 12 years old
To and From
This note was written in the Fall of 2004, but Lauren did not date this note. I am always amazed at her handwriting at 12 years old. She mentions Boe one of our cats that she named. There was always debate over how his name was spelled. The name came from the instrument she played in band, the oboe. Toby, her bother, did insist on many occasions that the cat’s name was spelled Bow. A debate he always lost.
Lauren and Boe
Relief 4/21
This is a poem Lauren wrote shortly before graduating from high school. The last stanza was read at her funeral and it explained why people to this day are still finding piece of things she left. The picture above is a self portrait she painted in acrylic, that we found in her belongings at her apartment.
Relief 4/21
I sit here among nature, as much nature as I can get in this town, substitution calm, temporary peace. The blue skies are my medicine, the sun burns away the dark tendrils of my mind as they try to surround, consume.
My heart is crumbling, slowly collapsing with neglect.
Thoughts poison feelings and pollute emotion just as emotion defines thoughts and colors feelings.
One day I’ll carry the sun with me, replacing my dying heart with a more lasting entity.
I want the light.
I am forever losing myself, drowning in the world that I try to love from afar.
Each time its harder to come back, harder to pour the cement that will root me to the ground.
I don’t know where I want to be, and the cement disintegrates.
I need to find stronger bindings.
Try to forget.
Look around but don’t think
Clear skies like a cover
Wrap yourself in the sunlight so that your darkness doesn’t escape
Push back your thoughts
Try to forget.
Relish the moment
Carry your heart in your pocket, sleeves are too risky
Try to forget.
Hold on to the happiness so that the sad wont ensnare you
Try to forget.
Illogical.
Stop wasting your time on the improbable.
Every thought is consumed.
This is why you lose yourself.
Stop looking for one thing, you blind your eyes from everything else.
Leave your poor heart alone.
I write by streetlight. Most use lamplight or candlelight but I make due.
The sun set so fast. I prefer sunlight.
Cars drive past. On every side there are cars. The noise engulfs my little field of green.
Clouds edge the sky, no longer daytime. They darken to violet, spurts of orange. Not my blue.
The ground is hard, the grass is here and mimics green but brown adorns each blade.
I want to leave something everywhere I go.
Every moment littered with a piece of me.
If every place I’ve been has something of mine, it would be like I never left.
Like I’m everywhere at once.
Its hard to get lost when you’re everywhere.
Its easy to get lost when you’re everywhere.
Someone would find me though.
I want to leave something everywhere I go so that when I get lost more people could find me.
Unfinished Journals 