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    Confessions of a Self Aware Manic Pixie Dream Girl
    Confessions of a Self Aware Manic Pixie Dream Girl
    Confessions of a Self Aware Manic Pixie Dream Girl
    Ebook120 pages39 minutes

    Confessions of a Self Aware Manic Pixie Dream Girl

    By Jennifer Juan

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    About this ebook

    About The Book

    Salvaged from the chaos and challenges of the UK wide lockdown, that occurred due to Covid-19, Confessions of a Self Aware Manic Pixie Dream Girl is a refreshingly frank take on the events unfolding around the world, and a human look at the struggles of loneliness, self doubt, and the journey back to hoping.

    About The Author

    Jennifer Juan is a writer, musician and content creator, currently residing in the Kent countryside, but dreaming of the ocean. A tornado of darkness and delicacy, Juan creates engaging and powerful projects, using a variety of mediums and platforms, each dripping with her signature playful, yet powerful style of writing.

    A University Of Greenwich graduate, Juan began sharing her work on her personal website, before releasing several volumes of poetry, including the critically acclaimed “Home Wrecker,” and several musical projects, including the recent dual poetry and music release, “Deus Ex Machina.”

    Juan also hosts the podcast “Sincerely, Jennifer x”, an immersive look at poetry, current events and lifestyle, along with the spoken word poetry radio show, Diverse Verse, for LGBTQUIA+ pop up radio station, Alphabet Radio, as part of the award winning Soho Radio.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJennifer Juan
    Release dateMay 29, 2020
    ISBN9780463145296
    Confessions of a Self Aware Manic Pixie Dream Girl
    Author

    Jennifer Juan

    Jennifer Juan is a writer, musician and content creator, currently residing in the Kent countryside, but dreaming of the ocean. A tornado of darkness and delicacy, Juan creates engaging and powerful projects, using a variety of mediums and platforms, each dripping with her signature playful, yet powerful style of writing.A University Of Greenwich graduate, Juan began sharing her work on her personal website, before releasing several volumes of poetry, including the critically acclaimed “Home Wrecker,” and several musical projects, including the recent dual poetry and music release, “Deus Ex Machina.”Juan also hosts the podcast “Sincerely, Jennifer x”, an immersive look at poetry, current events and lifestyle, along with the spoken word poetry radio show, Diverse Verse, for LGBTQUIA+ pop up radio station, Alphabet Radio, as part of the award winning Soho Radio.

    Read more from Jennifer Juan

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      Book preview

      Confessions of a Self Aware Manic Pixie Dream Girl - Jennifer Juan

      About This Book

      Salvaged from the chaos and challenges of the UK wide lockdown, that occurred due to Covid-19, Confessions of a Self Aware Manic Pixie Dream Girl is a refreshingly frank take on the events unfolding around the world, and a human look at the struggles of loneliness, self doubt, and the journey back to hoping.

      Dedication

      To the one who sits on my desk, in my heart, and on the cold side of the car. I love you, with all my heart.

      Self Isolation Saturdays

      Sunlight has settled outside,

      knocking on the glass,

      gazing at me,

      the queen of quarantines,

      decorated in my Sunday best,

      my nostalgia,

      for the outside world,

      that I never really liked that much,

      until it was a path,

      to the side of the one I love,

      is a thorn in my side,

      and a thorn in my forehead.

      I rode a bike once,

      into the back of a van,

      rearranging my face,

      and I miss the rushing wind,

      against my broken nose.

      I miss my husband’s hand in mine,

      when I would sleep,

      his fingers tightly holding mine,

      keeping me on the earth.

      I leave it,

      now and again,

      when I dream,

      when I think.

      I leave more often,

      now I have nowhere else to go.

      Closed

      I have closed my eyes,

      now I want to close my heart.

      Love always escapes.

      Concerned Whispers and Online Rumours

      I think you knew it couldn’t last.

      Eventually,

      I’d self immolate.

      Immortal,

      in your favourite dress,

      your favourite girl,

      self destructing,

      for everyone to see,

      gently taking the whole world with me,

      dancing myself to death,

      to a song I wrote,

      from concerned whispers,

      and online rumours.

      I was born dead,

      appearing,

      and then disappearing at will,

      my brown eyes,

      always overflowing with fucking feeling,

      and I tried to tell you,

      again and again,

      as loud as a person can,

      until my throat was sore,

      and my pen was out of ink,

      that I was nothing but trouble,

      dancing in the street,

      with strangers,

      to a song I wrote,

      from concerned whispers,

      and online rumours.

      They say I was born mad.

      Can you hear it my love?

      It’s so beautiful.

      They say my lips aren’t real.

      Sing along,

      if you can bring yourself to pretend,

      for my sake,

      that you’re into the lo-fi bedroom pop,

      (he’s not…

      I’m not mad about it.

      I’m not)

      I pour onto my label’s table,

      to tell them,

      that I’m not over being into you.

      They say I love you just a little too much.

      How much is too much?

      I am on fire.

      I am immortal.

      My accountant is crying,

      but my audience is growing,

      and the sun stays up too late,

      to see how it ends.

      There is a mad girl,

      who was born dead,

      dancing in the street,

      because it was only a matter of time,

      before she came to life

      and let her heart get out of control.

      Pedantic Preacher

      Last night,

      I dreamed I got on a bus to hell,

      and by some chance,

      had memories of you,

      in my mind,

      so there you stood,

      nicely passing out the strings of my heart,

      that you had collected over

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