To All the Grown-up Laura’s

As Twin Peaks fans, we will often be asked by other fans which character we are the most similar to, or we relate to the most. It’s a game we all like to play, and often there are several answers as we consider the people we were in 1989 compared to the people we are now.

My answer has always been that I am ‘a grown-up Laura.’

There are a lot of us out here. That’s something I discovered while interacting in online groups this summer. Both male and female versions. As fans who generally watched, and loved, the show alone for all these years, it is extraordinary to discover just how many kindred spirits are out there.

The first time I answered that, I said I was lucky to have survived and to still be here. Another fan responded that luck has nothing to do with it. ‘If you are a Laura, and are still here and are okay, you saved yourself,’ he replied. ‘You were the hero of your story and I applaud you.’

And he was absolutely right, to the point of making me cry. One thing about this summer for those of us who were there the first time, is that it has regressed us to our teenage selves. Sitting down to watch a new episode every week and hearing those first notes of the theme tune with no idea of what was to come takes us back to the excitement of the first time. With those feelings come a lot of cutting memories that have pulled open old wounds.

I suppose in an essay like this, you are supposed to go into detail and pour out the darkest corners of your soul. I’m not going to do that. Details aren’t important anyway. Our demons come in different shapes and forms, and none are more or less important than the rest.


I will say that I never loved Laura. I still don’t. I could never love her because I saw too much of myself in her, which is a telling statement in itself. I knew her, though. She was with me on drunken nights when I cried into my vodka. She was with me when I sat at my open window in the dead of night with cigarettes I wasn’t supposed to have, imagining my spirit was leaving me in the plumes of smoke. She was with me when I found myself in situations I shouldn’t have been in and was lucky to get out of. She was with me on the too-often occasions I watched my own blood trailing down my arms. And she was with me on long nights in the woods, embracing the darkness and feeling a freedom that you never really feel again once your youth is behind you.

In 1992/93, I watched Fire Walk With Me every night for a year. I needed to see something that filled me with hope. I needed to see angels. Every night before I went to sleep, I would think of the Laura’s who wouldn’t make it through till morning. I remember praying every night for God to give my life to another Laura, someone who deserved it more and would do it better. But every morning I woke up, and day by day, it got a little brighter in the world, and a little easier to breathe.


For the next ten years, sometimes things got better, and sometimes they got much worse. And sometimes things happened that were out of my control but still stayed with me like a dead weight well into recent months.

And sometimes I have those strange moments when I look outside of myself and realise how far I have come.

I’m the one who had to cling on to my spirituality and my dreams. I’m the one who had to sit myself down and make a decision whether to let myself end up living in a squat, numbing my thoughts with drugs every day, or whether to try one more time to follow my ambitions as far as they would take me.

My boyfriend at the time ended up on the streets, addicted to heroin, and later committed suicide in the woods on a cold October night. Once you get sucked into that downward spiral, it is very hard to climb back out. It’s like a sinkhole.

People like me and him didn’t get angels in the night to make our bonds fall away. We didn’t get dream figures in the woods to take our hands and lead us home. Most people don’t. Instead, we get the darkness of the trees and the blackness of burnt oil, and the only glimmer of light is the hope we can retain inside us through it all. It’s the hardest thing in the world to hold on to, and sometimes people are forced to let go.

This summer has taken us all back to the beginning, and in that way, has completed the circle. This season has bridged the gap between the 14-year-old me who wanted to die, and the 41-year-old me who is very grateful to still be here. The bridge has been crossed, the weight has been lifted, and it feels like it’s finally time to say goodbye to the old Laura and let her go into the night for the last time.

So I want to say to everyone who managed to hold on and still be here, to all the grown-up Laura’s, male or female, the same words that were said to me – you are the hero of your story, and I applaud you.


Written by Cheryl Lee latter

Cheryl is a writer for 25YL, and a lifelong Twin Peaks obsessive, who joined the team in 2017 in order to share that passion through her articles. Most of her time is spent running social media fan groups and pages. She loves 90s music, horror fiction and true crime documentaries. In the real world, she lives on a tiny island, and loves going for long walks and brainstorming sessions with her equally creative daughter.


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  1. Wow! That`s a hell of a story, moving and real.Realy well written too. And it shows how deep this show goes, it is more than a show in fact, it`s unique.

  2. from a laura to another laura and all the lauras: always all ways do your best, even if todays best is worse than yesterdays worse. love yourself. forgive yourself. my favourite visualization exercise: i am handed my newborn self, wrapped in blankets, full of trust and hope, and i hold her with love and acceptance. i have to hold her a lot, some days. i have to be compassionate and patient. she is a new born. she needs me.
    sometimes this is what it takes to get through a day or night.
    i didn’t want to twist the new borns that i held in my arms, so i had to learn to love my laura. how could i properly love my babies if i couldn’t and wouldn’t love myself?
    easier some days than others, but a life long work.
    i love you all.
    bless you.

  3. Beautiful. My Laura moments aren’t nearly as dramatic as yours, but as you said, we all have them and they are all valid. Thank you for sharing yours and congratulations for making it to the other side!

  4. Beautiful. Touching. Empowering.

    I hope every Laura out there gets to hear this or something like this in some way. Because it is important that they hear it and know it to be true. And it is so much more powerful coming from someone who lived it.

    Once again: I applaud you.

  5. What a wonderful essay. Sometimes it’s hard to take the good, the bad and the ugly. I’ve learned that lesson. Thank you for sharing this.

  6. Thank you so much <3 These could've been my words; you are able to put them in a way I'm not able to as my mind often wonders in to many directions making it impossible to write something that makes so much sense. Beautiful <3

  7. Beautiful, and so true. Your story is so inspiring, and when reading it, I thought about Andrew Grevas’ honest and moving essay a few months ago describing his personal connection to Laura. I’m 41 too, and to be honest, I’m in a bit of a dark place right now. I find solace in having that connection with Laura, I always have, but especially in the darker times. One of my favourite scenes ever is in FWWM; the ‘falling in space’ conversation with Donna. When I saw the missing pieces and saw that extra scene, when Doc Hayward tells Laura the angels will return… ?

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