lauren elizabeth

I painted a beautiful picture of my beautiful self. Then I set it on fire to make it real. I will forever alter your view of the world. But...I'm only a bunch of crap compiled together summoned to feel. You know how when you're reading something & you get the chills? And even though you dont exactly know what it all means, you find yourself in awe of all the words & how they are arranged just so? I'm just a porcelain girl who falls in love too quickly. Well, you cant hurt me. I'm made of ashes & strawberry chapstick. They say she didn't feel a thing. But how are they to know? They don't know how she felt. You know why they say that she didn't feel a thing? So that you don't get mad, because if you thought that possibly she went through the worst imaginable pain you'd be so mad you wouldn't know how to cope. And then you'd ultimately cause yourself that very same pain. So they just tell you she didn't feel a thing. Well you know what? I did feel a thing, so get fucking mad. I dare you. He used to say "Die young & be a beautiful corpse." Well, I'll die when it's time & still be a beautiful corpse. The living & the dead co-exist in an earthbound purgatory & battle through struggles of death, hope, poetry, nature & memory. The dead think of things that tickle. I want someone to tickle me when I'm dead. I remember when I was a little girl & my amazing mother had me convinced I was Miss America. I keep finding things that remind me of my childhood, which makes me poignant because I want to feel that way again. The way I felt when I sat on the back of the convertible in a pink dress, pink fingernails, pink hair pin...waving to everyone I saw while I flipped my long blonde hair from side to side. I threw temper tantrums. But everything was so wonderful when I was young, everything was a fantasy. In my dreams, I'm still that naive little girl, full of life. I have an older brother, & he's perfect. My little sister pokes fun at my randomness. She is my best friend & I wish for one day I could be in her head. What else was I saying? Sometimes I forget. Thats just what happens when you're an artist. There is so much going on in my head that sometimes I just lose it, & I forget. Thats why no one understands me. But does it really matter to be understood? After all, the world is just a hall of mirrors in which no one owns their own childhood & where the dead have the clearest understanding of what it really means to be alive. Don't talk to me seeking answers because I can't give you any. My secret power is in my touch & the sensitivity of my strokes on paper and canvas. There is a necklace that holds truth. This danish coin: when I lost my virginity. This guitar pick: when he told me I was his everything. This bird pendant: when I could finally escape the pain. And this glitter vial: when I looked at you & made you vibrate. That was spectacular. I'm painted with stars in which God himself placed so perfectly on me. I'm most thankful for this contact. It took me on a candy flavored mission to the moon. I'm the little girl you really won't understand. She calls me little lo lo. BEGINMYSPACETOOLBOXBACKUP VERSION 1.1;;ffffff; http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f84/ljoo/danishtransformat ioncrop.jpg; Top Left; fixed; no-repeat; 000000; ; bold; ; ; ; Georgia; 660000; ; ; ; ; ; Georgia; ff0000; ; ; ; ; italic; Georgia; cc0033; 12pt; ; underline; ; ; Georgia; ; ; Center Center; scroll; no-repeat; ; solid; 0; 100; ; ; ; ;;