in which i do photography

I found some of these whilst cleaning out my camera. For my final portfolio when I was in art school (during the period of my life which I was convinced I wanted to be an artist for a living, mmhm) needed some photography.

Mostly trying to focus on the trash that is the inner city in which I live.

This was not the version I used (I'd taken several from different positions and angles)

but sadly the photo I'd chosen was accidentally deleted.

I was mesmerized by the colors, and how they climbed horizontally across

the outer brick of an empty church.

 

I loved this one; the splattered paint looked like blood and all the red gave a sense of gore.

We have wind storms a lot in this city. During one particularly windy day, the clouds

swirled and curled in the sky.

This was not included in my portfolio. But I love this piece nonetheless. 

I was walking home from the store when I noticed the way

that the sunset hit the footprints in the snow.

Something about it left me breathless.

small talk

Acting skills are essential for me when it comes to daily living. There's this bit of irritation to my personality - one that hates lying, small talk, and cheap words. 

I'm asked, "How are you today?" and I have to bite my tongue. No one actually expects, or wants you to respond honestly. You're not supposed to say how you really feel, how bad things are. You're just supposed to say, "I'm good, how are you?" in return. It makes me want to claw out my own vocal cords to give an excuse as to why I'm unable to answer. I've gotten good at faking it, however. 

Chalking up some acting skills from some twisted pit inside of me to be able to say that I'm alright. Used to be that I wasn't able to answer at all; I'd simply change the subject, or give a very curt response with a smile. I'm still shit at small talk, and social graces. I don't have much will to pretend, so it's hard some days. I prefer honesty, and people don't like honesty when you're not doing so well. No matter how ill you are, or how chaotic things in your life may be; it's not as though people have a preference for listening to you complain.

I've never been good at feigning interest in things I don't care about, so that hasn't much landed me many companions in the past. But, I'm getting better, it seems. I'm better at using a silver tongue and curling people into the thing I would call my friendship circle, if I were an actively social human being. Don't get me wrong, I like people and I like friends, I've just always had some issues with having patience for small talk and rhetorical social graces.

There's not much point to this musing, I suppose. Mostly it's the feeling of keys under my fingertips that helps me get my head on straight. I have a dinnerdate with a friend tonight, after all, and I'm trying to prepare myself to the scary thing that people refer to as social interaction. During times like this I usually have a drink or two before greeting someone; alcohol has always loosened my tongue and made social graces more bearable, and albeit, enjoyable. But not tonight, given that I'm on a dry streak due to some rather unpleasantly bad health problems. Hopefully it'll clear up before it's allotted months of recovery time that was originally instilled. 

breaking up with depression

Depression is such a funny, horrifically controlling creature. It claws up your spine and grabs hold of your brain, flipping off switches and dimming down the lights until there's nothing but a hazy darkness in your line of sight. It knows not of discrimination, and hunts silently for any, and everyone.

I've dealt with the creature for much of my life. Periods of darkness so deep that its hurts to smile. "But why are you sad? What's wrong?" It's not something you can answer. How can you say - there's nothing wrong. Everything is fine, but it's just you. There's something wrong with you, and it's like a cancer that has your mind attacking itself.

It gets to the point that you don't know much else.

When the pills begin to do their job and your mind gets just a little bit clearer - how do you live now? How are you supposed to go on when you've had this defining parasite that's been your companion all these years? Something that's always there and watching, but then it's suddenly gone. You've gotten so used to the dark, so used to the hazy cloud of nothing that envelops you, so how the hell are you supposed to look into the bright sun and breathe the fresh air and see life as it would have been? How is that supposed to happen?

No one ever tells you how hard it is just to be happy, especially when you've spent your entire life living in a fucking mental hell.

something like love

i've only met you once
in the silent winter chill

with your goofy hat
and wild brown curls

biting your chapped lip
as you try not to smile

you are the ethereal dream
that i never wanted to end.

recessional [one shot]

word count: 2,285

      
     This is it: the moment of truth, no backing down. Petals from the flower you clutch in your hand hit the velvet carpet that covers the concrete, absently, without a mind of purpose. Laughter and cheerful voices ring hollow in the distance, but you cannot bring yourself to listen in. There is no turning back from here.

little things

You offer your hand out with such a kind smile. It’s hard not to trust you immediately. My Heart’s not something calloused; it’s easy to break and scar, so I hand it over tentatively.

You hold it so delicately that I know I made the right choice. But you don’t give enough nourishment for it to fully flourish, and that’s okay. I sit; I wait, and look up every time you give a smile my way. But it’s not for me. Not anymore.

You hold my Heart thinking it’ll help me; but you don’t see it for what it is. You think it’s friendship I’m offering, and you look at Her instead of me.

You say She’s ‘The One’, and my Heart lays dormant inside your pocket. It still pulses so desperately, wishing and hoping. Waiting for the day when you’ll hold it so lovingly again.

You’re happy, you smile at Her. Mine is bitter and worn, but I’m trying to be supportive. It hurts too much to look, when You becomes Two.

She likes you. You like Her. You say it borders on love, and my Heart begins to wilt from the lack of sustenance.

But, I still cling to the little things. Hoping, that one day, you’ll look at me once more - the way you used to - and smile.

It’s long since been buried under years of dust and lint; my heart, for which you’ve kept for so long, continues to wait.

sometimes strangers are kind

So, on my way home today, I was walking down a busy street, where a woman's car broke down. She had a line of people behind her blowing their horns and yelling, and when she got out and started crying, I realized what happened. I ran over to help her push, even though I was exhausted and half frozen thanks to the Ohio suburban tundra. 

I started pushing for her and moments later, THREE people pulled over to help. Together, we all got her car into a parking lot, where I let her use my phone to call her husband.The three other people were totally nice and willing to do whatever it took to help, not bothered by the interference it may place in their daily schedule. The woman was almost out of gas, in addition to her car problems, so a lady who had helped went to a gas station to get her a can of gas, and a dude gave the woman a jump to get her car started again.

This was the most heartwarming thing I've experienced in a good while. Never underestimate the kindness of strangers.