Helen Barlowe

I grew up in a small town.

Not the kind of small where you know everyone and their parents by a first name basis or the kind of small that has one convenience store and a cafe, but the kind of small

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“Just rip off the bandage”

My mother said when I was five years old with a skinned knee. I didn’t like the feeling so I let the bandaid stay until it fell off painlessly in the pool.

“Just rip off th

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I called all my friends they said nothing wrong but nothing right. They can’t handle my questions about life and death, but it’s not their fault that I’m dying tonight, not literally but mentally, thi

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Today she noticed I wasn’t wearing makeup. It wasn’t a particularly big observation, I’m always glittering with eyeshadow, eyeliner sharp enough to kill. It’s hard not to notice when I’m not. Still, t

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What if nobody wins this war?

The war of our hearts and minds, you scream at me and I scream back but there are no words that I could ever say that would mean I could never hurt you.

I didn’t know wh

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When you love an artist, they will immortalize you forever in the purest form of yourself. A form that you didn’t even know you could take. The artist sees the beauty in every little thing and that ma

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I have to be the most hopeless romantic I know. I call all the random phone numbers I find in the bathroom stalls, I dress up every day even when I have nowhere to go, I stand in the romance section o

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Loving you is like a summer snow.

Like touching the water with only your toes.

I’ll never know you how I want to.

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I used to feel depressed because I hated myself. I didn’t like the way I looked, how I talked, how I acted, or how I thought and when you don’t love yourself it’s pretty hard to love your life. Now I

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I remember tracing the creased lines on your warm, dirt covered hands when you taught me how to garden. Your greying red hair glistened in the summer sun as we sowed the carrot seeds and planted the o

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