the illustrated girl

i see the sky between the power lines

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another letter to amy

dear amy, mermaid …

i feel so lost without you in this world. your presence alone reminded me that i wasn’t alone.

i have always been talented beyond my years, but with a giant streak of recklessness running through me like a highway. a deep chasm that sometimes prevents me from getting to the other side without being run over a few times. i feel like some people are meant to have a faster trajectory in life. it’s like you take flight so fast and straight up in the air, reach the highest heights, then return back to earth faster than people with a gentler curved path… and hit the earth in a fiery blaze - then you are gone. i understand.

but you have left a deep and indelible imprint upon my heart, and the hearts of millions of other souls. i miss you, miss amy jade.

love,

sarah june

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Dear Amy,
I remember hearing the news, that you were gone, one year ago today. I ran out of the restaurant where I was eating, pushing people out of my way, and pressed myself against the gate of a church nearby. I just couldn’t fathom that you were gone. I have loved you for so long, and I miss you every day. I can’t believe it has been a year. It feels like yesterday.

Dear Amy,

I remember hearing the news, that you were gone, one year ago today. I ran out of the restaurant where I was eating, pushing people out of my way, and pressed myself against the gate of a church nearby. I just couldn’t fathom that you were gone. I have loved you for so long, and I miss you every day. I can’t believe it has been a year. It feels like yesterday.

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letter to amy

dear amy,

i feel i’ll die young, my dreams wrung and hung to dry.

my tears will never dry.

my body’s marked up like graffiti; urban Nefertiti¬†

equal to these men, my spirit transcends

opinion worth more than 2 cents

i’ma nuisance in suburbia

they say i represent a descent into poor morals

and no impulse control

i drink too much but i’m still raising the bar

without spilling the liquor

and in this fast life i’m quicker.

i miss you, my dear amy. every day.

love, sarah june

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letter to amy

dear amy,

i feel the gears winding down inside the little clock of my heart. they turn slower now, and their teeth don’t always grip and turn like they should. i’m always a few steps behind my own shadow, so darkness precedes me. and that darkness stands up tall even when i’m on my knees. ya know we go together like praying hands, ‘cuz it’s the same stuff in both of us that nobody understands. my jet plane has run out of fuel and i’m headed down to the ocean, a watery grave. and i’m without a parachute. and my eulogy will be read by the cresting waves.

i miss you, amy jade.

~sarah june

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letter to amy

dear amy,

i laid in my bed and listened to the album of your recordings that was released today. i miss you. i’ve realized being around the block a few times is a stain you can’t wash off. it stays with you - that taint of struggle and despair - it’s like being haunted. and even when the demons are chased away, they still have left their footprints.¬†

lately my body feels like a shipwreck. i hide my twiggy body underneath layers of clothes. it seems like my body has gone on strike. it wants to be treated better, but currently my mind and heart are at the whim of the harsh dictator of chemicals and broken hearts. i’m trying to rise above like steam. but my dreams bleed into my waking life, like ink soaking through one page onto another. i don’t know where the haze begins or ends. i just know i am incased in it, no lighthouse, just gray.

i keep writing you, amy. it helps me to get by. and i will try to wait until my own tears dry.

yours,

sarah

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a letter to amy

dear amy,

the wound left by the loss of you has not healed. it never will. not many people understand why i have felt so deeply connected to you, and then how devastating the loss of you was to me. there have been very few people who i saw myself in. who reminded me that it’s ok to be me. and you are one of those few. people can see my struggles the moment they see me. i’m a clutter of tattoos and tangled hair, failed relationships, and self-destructive behavior. but i make my music and art, and people look up to me for what i do. but inside i am barely getting by. when i felt my whole world was upside down, i always turned to you - your music and live performances - to help me see that it is okay to have a soul like a picture window, where people can see all of your flaws and secrets so plainly. i felt comforted knowing you were here on this earth with me, during my fleeting lifetime. and now i feel adrift in your absence. you were my lighthouse. and now my ship has drifted into choppy dark waters, and i don’t know which way is north. people depend on me for advice or to play them songs on my guitar. and i give and give, and go home emptier than before.

i miss you, amy jade. “since you’ve been gone my body’s been a mess, and i miss your ginger hair and the way you like to dress.”

love,

sarah june

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another letter to amy.

dear amy jade,

it’s been so long since i’ve written. i’m sorry. i feel like a shipwreck - this body of mine is just pointy bones and bruises. i’m trying to be healthy, but seems like i create my own twenty-foot-waves to capsize my little boat, and then i wonder why my pockets are filled with stones and i can’t stay afloat. i sit in front of the floor-length mirror in the morning, and and watch my pupils clench tight like fists. and i walk beside my shadow through these chilly autumn days. the trees are ablaze. today i listened to you sing while i sat on my bed with my head in my hands. it’s so hard to explain the way i miss you. i feel i’ve lost a piece of myself. i will imagine you cradled in the silver starlight above as i fall asleep tonight.

love,

sarah june

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