Today I Will Be Better, I Swear.

 
I take my break on the window seal outside the lab. Four floors up, I watch a bolt of lightning light up the night sky and for a moment I am content. It’s as if the flash of electric light is sending jolts up and down my spine, my skin prickles at the thought of it. Another long night is ahead of me; I probably will not leave the labs until the sun is reaching for the morning sky. My body aches from overexertion and I know that I am close to exhaustion.
I am anxious for things to conclude; with only a few weeks left of my undergraduate schooling I have so many fears. My thesis, a concept of photographs I have worked diligently on for over a year, is due in a few days. I can feel myself falling and I am hoping I have the strength to overcome these trying days. I’ll get there, I know I will, I just have to keep my priorities in order.
The only blessing I have is the diversion of my work, one that’s needed to sooth my broken heart.

I love the lightning storm. Its beauty lights up the city sky, a private showing, just right to calm my anxiety.
I know I can do this- I’ve come to far to fail.


"An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else's."

I feel as if I am putting myself into a catch-22. One in which I can see no clear horizon line.  In the past few weeks a resurface of past expressions of emotion has cause for alarm and I fear that I am falling into something I have not seen in quite sometime. I am aware of a fervent need to catch myself and stop these destructive habits, but I’m also aware that this time I’m probably just not strong enough.

I’m trying very hard to be the better person. I want to believe that our love can surpass any obstacle but what I have come to realize is that past mistakes have lain dormant in my heart and continually resurface when I am weak and close to braking. I am not over it. I hurt, so much, and I long to find closure, to understand that what he did to me a year ago was nothing, and meant nothing. But my heart is so ready to destruct and self-inflict pain that it tells me otherwise. I feel as if I am spiraling out of control.

I tell myself that I am wicked for hurting him with my questions and insecurities. I see the hurt in his eyes when I bring it up and this alone is enough to crush my heart. I wish I were stronger, a better woman. I wish I could say that the things said to me a year ago did not still hold reverent positions in my heart- I wish I could. But that would be a lie. How is a girl to overcome a lie when her self-confidence is as low as mine? I’m desperate for an answer.



One year ago I was told that I wasn’t good enough; that another girl was far better in his eyes. That he loved her and could never love another. What I understand now is that I have never recovered from these words. I know they were lies and yet I cannot recover.

Clown In The Moon.

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

Thomas, D.

Through the Roof and Underground.

 

Wristcutters: A Love Story from Boris Krupenin on Vimeo.

I just saw Wristcutters again after quite sometime and I forgot how much I liked it. It will probably go into my dvd collection soon, so I would recommend it.

In any case, I'm feeling strange today- unsteady.

Our Way To Fall.

"So try and try, even if it lasts an hour, with all our might try and make it ours cause we're on our way, we're on our way."

I feel that we are so much closer to recovery- to forgiveness. I see his willingness to allow my heart to heal. He tells me everything, leaving out nothing, and we are learning to let go of the past. A past shadowed by the immature actions of sad people who sought with all they had to break our spirits and see our love fail. Although it is painful, so painful, we have overcome and this growth has allowed the two of us to understand the true value of love and the remarkable connection we have.  My love for him grows to a completely new capacity. We are so alike, we fit together so nicely, and its as if I have known the boy my entire life. This is wonderful.

Art Is Hard.

“There are people who, on meeting a successful rival, no matter in what, are at once disposed to turn their backs on everything good in him, and to see only what is bad. There are people, on the other hand, who desire above all to find in that lucky rival the qualities by which he has outstripped them, and seek with a throbbing ache at heart only what is good.”

At times it feels as if there is a watermelon seed growing in my stomach, consuming my hopes and aspirations, a crippling fear of desperation planted by those who are less deserving. To counteract this I cling to anything that has ever explained who I am. Be it my silly southern accent, or that I’m ambidextrous, I long to understand what defines the young woman I am becoming- as if it were a prediction of my future success. I've always had incredible determination, something only a mother could give a daughter, and so at a young age I knew that I would become a photographer and growing up a camera was always in my hand. It was never a question what I would pursue; I am an artist and I always have been.

Lately though, a suffocating anxiety overtakes my senses and as I spiral further into my own personal black hole, I am conscious of my inner-self screaming to stop and hold on to anything, and everything, I know I can accomplish, my dreams.

In the end my accomplishments are what calm my spirits, a reminder of my ability and my perseverance. I have graduated with honors from a prestigious high school, and soon a prestigious college. I have won awards for both my art and my writing, I have worked with incredible artists, and I have handled amazing art.

I mean I have held Rembrandt's etchings and Henri Cartier-Bresson's photographs in my bare hands.

How amazing is that?

I am not one to gloat and I do not want to sound pretentious; I just need to remind myself of my ability. Throughout my life adversity tended to stand in my path, hissing that I would never amount to anything. It has been painful, entirely too painful, but I have persevered and proven these taunts false.  I just don't want to forget how far I have come, and how much further I can go. 

My Death.

"It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story."

Hand in Glove.

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 (Polaroids from summer '09)

“Yes, we may be hidden by rags but we've something they'll never have.”

I can’t wait to be your scooter companion when we are old. So adorable. :)

The Beginning After the End.

 

“She found no words in which she could express the complexity of her feelings; indeed, she could not even find thoughts in which she could clearly think out all that was in her soul. “

I am quite busy at the moment; these last few days have gone by in a blur and in the coming weeks the intensity shall only increase. The quiet of the night, however, has allowed for my reflection. This feeling of accomplishment is quite invigorating; it’s as if I am coming to an intoxicating realization, one that enables my anxiety to calm. My world is infallible, exquisite in its complexity, and eloquent in its beauty. I see the faults of those who sought to harm me; I have come to realize their fears and thus pity them. Although this matter is trifling, it is a conviction that allows for success. Life is wonderful and I am happy, this is all that need be reminded to bring out my smile.  :)

Plus in only a few more weeks my photographs will be in show and I shall be a graduate!

Vertical Ray Of The Sun.

 The world awakens on the run.  Your loves the warmest place the sun ever shines.


  I absolutely adore this film. I wish I could forever wake to Lou Reed's intoxicating voice, the warmth of the sun, and the beat of my heart.

Sleeping Bear, Sault Saint Marie.

“The moment I met you I saw that you were quite unconscious of what you really are, what you really might be. There was so much about you that charmed me that I felt I must tell you something about yourself. I thought how tragic it would be if you were wasted. For there is such a little time that your youth will last–such a little time.”