Were my parents worried about me? I spent hours upon hours in my room, writing weird poetry, journaling, drawing in my sketch book, surrounded by candles from Bath and Body works, listening to Sophie B. Hawkins and Stone Temple Pilots on repeat. I felt things, so many deep emotions that, you guys, my parents could just NEVER understand.
I was just born this weird. And by weird, I mean, "an artist."
But I was fortunate enough to be a child of the 80's and 90's. I recited my poetry, and divulged my innermost secrets to my best friend, underneath a ceiling of glow-in-the-dark constellation stickers at sleepovers. I didn't have the option of posting it to my Facebook wall or making a Youtube video for the world to see.
Thank. God.
Looking through all of these articles of emotional purges, I felt like I was reuniting with an distant creepy but lovable friend. I missed her angsty ass. I think it's time that she got her moment in the spotlight, to share all of the things she was feeling while living in that isolating world of the 80's and 90's where every hormone-driven thought couldn't be broadcast.
This is my honest to goodness "early work." Enjoy.
