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everyone has their heroes. most people (me included) would say that their mom, dad, brother, grandparent, or any other member of their family would be their hero. some people might say poets or actors or artists or directors. and maybe, on occasion, they could say the person they are 10 years from now is their
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i turned twenty-two (22!) on tuesday. birthdays are always really weird for me. i’m a huge birthday person when it comes to the people in my life, i love celebrating them and feeding them alcohol to create unforgettable nights they’ll definitely forget until next morning conversations over brunch. but when it comes to my birthday,
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hello, hello, hello! thanks for checking back in with me. i must say, i’m gettin’ pretty good at this whole weekly blogging thing. consistency is key, right? a few updates since last post: the stay at home in my town has been lifted (yay!) so i was able to see my friends (yay!) and my
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hi all, it’s me again. been a while, huh? i haven’t been writing much on this blog, so i guess i went against my new year resolution a bit. i’ve just been so busy! creating my graphic art poetry has become harder and more time-consuming in tandem with school, my social life, and managing my
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hello friends, i sincerely apologize for the extremely emo post a few weeks ago. i needed a way to air out my thoughts and feelings, and that’s what i made this blog for. documenting emotion. transparency, remember? anyway, i was so genuinely happy that my post impacted so many of you. every text message, facebook
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in high school, i wore knee socks with my dresses. nobody else wore them but me. and i didn’t care. they made me happy. i was authentically myself. sure, i hid and camouflaged some things about myself to fit in, but i was in high school. fitting in was everything. but even then, i still dressed in a
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i hated horror films as a kid. i didnt understand the blood, or the gore, or the fact that people willingly subjected themselves to nightmares and terror. as a kid who had extremely vivid nightmares, horror movies were my own personal hell. and i hated them. however, i was always obsessed with tim burton and
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i’ve always wanted to be a writer. i started out wanting to write books, then poems, and now screenplays. however, poetry has always had a special place in my cold, dead, little heart. it’s always been a way for me to express my emotions, good and bad. well, usually bad, but i have written happy-sappy-in-love poems
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i think today was the first time, in a pretty long time, that i was truly, genuinely happy. let me rephrase that. it’s not like i’m never happy: i feel happy when mcdonalds remembers that my cheeseburger is plain, or whenever i watch “steven universe,” or when i’m with my friends or family or boyfriend
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take your shoes off, stay a while. after years of living in sheer terror, i’ve decided to start my own blog. i know it doesn’t sound like much of a feat, but believe me when i tell you that this is one of the hardest things i’ve ever decided to do. the mere thought of
julianna marie 