It’s something that’s very new for me. I’ve always wrote just journals and stuff, but it was never an actual thing that I wanted to do. At the beginning of this year, I woke up one morning and I was like, “I want to write a book of poetry because I have all these thoughts and feelings and things inside me, I want to get them out.” And for me, writing was just a way to just understand my own emotions and understand the world around me and how I think and how I feel and when I see things on paper it’s like, “Oh they make sense.”

I shared them with my friends and family and agents, and people connected to them on a really deep level, so I decided to publish a book. It’s the most personal thing I’ve ever done and I’m very, very proud of it. It’s my catharsis, my way to just get it all out there and make sense of it. I’m bringing it out in the open like, “This is how it really is. This is the raw, brutal emotion that I am feeling and I know you feel it too.”

Here is an excerpt of Julia’s poetry – the first ever released!

It’s breathing down my neck

Darkness on the daunting shore is breathing down my neck

Shallow breaths create a hushed echo across the water

Reach the shore and breath no more; lips utter no hope

There’s a chill in the air tonight, I feel it in my soul

It’s cold and weak like a dead mans hand laid on mine

Clouds eclipse a full conscious, brawling in the sky

And shadows cast a glimpse of no one there, there’s no one here

But I remember seeing him look at me like this

Like when he looks at me I have been looked at

And when he lays me down I will lay there forever

I rest there, trying to remember how to breathe

And I take the dead mans hand in mine and hold it close to my heart

I will not stir in the bed I have made for you and I

The sky will turn its crimson pinks and orange and scorch the land

A new day has turned and I am still the same, I still feel without

Winds rustle the leaves that command presence and obedience

So I stand submissive to the path that has been chosen

Bowing and cursing them under my breath

It’s foul, but not as merciless as the rotting man in my hand…

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