Something not depressing: model pictures!

So for those of you who know me well, I'm going to try out for America's Next Top Model this next summer. I know I probably won't get in, but I do want to try. It's kind of an initiation thing--being able to accept who I am after an ultimate rejection of it.
But these are my modeling pictures! I'm obviously getting more of them, since you need a portfolio, but these are the best ones I have so far:

Killing the Light.


Rooftops and Invitations.

Triplets.


Sushi flower.

American Cola. Hypnotik.


Marie Antoinette.

All my photographs were taken by myself except for the "Rooftops and Invitations" which was taken by my roommate A.
I know it's a far cry from a portfolio but I love these pictures to death, so.

God, all I've been doing lately is poetry

There's a reason.
I can't forget you--
you are my black hole;
you suck it all in
and leave nothing inside me.
I wish you could know what
you've done
to me.
From strung-out
to someone.

I want to forget.
Let me leave.
You force me to stay,
your memory makes me
question everything.
You make me ignorant.
No reason--
no reason for me to care
but I do.
And I can't forget you.

Possibility

Rebirth

I.
Agony, shivering--
how much more can I endure?
Trudging onwards through the wasteland:
the teenage wasteland.
Alone. Always alone. Fighting,
fighting everyone,
but most of all myself.
Which makes it all the harder.
Rationalizing, slipping away
further into the delusions.
It is all I can do not to scream,
the gasps
coming short and quick
torn from me
like you were.
Fate is nothing
God, I wish fate were nothing.

II.
Then emerging, breathing,
feeling the light on my cheeks,
the wind on my lips.
Suffering leads to contentment,
though what I am content with
is empty.
Not alone anymore,
sang vivant in my veins,
pulsing like wine.
The dead leaves
are beautiful,
everything is symbolic of my struggle.
Tomorrow might be the wind
that blows out my flame
but it may be the fire
that ignites my heart.

***

Monotony

We go through the motions because we have to.
I tell you welcome,
you ask me my name.
I answer:
Laure.
You fidget with your tie.
You're friends with A.?
Yes, you are.
Have a drink, you ask me.
I say no, but watch you indulge.
The punch stains your lips.
Evening.
And it begins again.

***
Je ne suis la petite bellete de personne.