queme una biografia y sople cenizas de mi ayer
i burned a biography
and blew away the ashes of my yesterday
don't intend to show me
who loved me
and whom i must love
day zero commences
and tomorrow, its continuity
I was reading through some of my old journal posts. I've deleted a lot, for many reasons, but I've also kept a lot. It's such a strange thing, to read words I wrote years ago, to remember what it was like back then. I wouldn't want to go back.
The reason I kept this journal after all is because it chronicles who I've been, what I've become and how I've grown into this, and where I intend to go. It's a reminder to myself that I am stronger than I give myself credit for, that in my own weird way, I really am a fighter.
Look, I don't back down.
That would be an interesting title for an art series. "Look, I don't back down." I think I may just have been hit by inspiration. Black and white photography, a splash of color here and there, the focal point being myself. I'll admit; I may be a narcissist. I enjoy taking pictures of myself. I find myself interesting. Shallow? Perhaps. And believe it or not, in my pictures, I understand more of myself. Cameras capture things I'm not good at holding. Heartbreak, despair, hope, the unexplainable. Go back and look at some of my work; you'll understand or misunderstand me and eitherwayitmakesnodifferencetomebecauseiseewhatiseewiththesetwoeyes.
I am what I am. What am I? I. I am.
It's taken me a long time to get here. It's taken me many bruises and I've got many scars, but maybe I am growing into a strange mix of grownup/child. Maybe I was born old; old and tired and weathered, ruffled by winds and circumstances, and now I'm growing into my youth. It's a wonderful thing. Difficult, yes. I'm still the queen of delayed reactions and I'm afraid of many things. Life has done this to me. I fear things I shouldn't fear, I know, and I'm trying to branch out more.
It's true; I still have fears, but not as many. I'm letting go, my hands opening, the things that haunt me slipping through these crooked fingers. They hit the ground, but I don't see them anymore.
I am looking up,
up,
up,
up,
because
I got tired
of always looking
down,
down,
down.
Look, this crown is made of thorns but it's still minemineminemine. No, I learned to stop inflicting this pain on myself. I learned I was worth a thousand times more than insignificant wounds, than...
and blew away the ashes of my yesterday
don't intend to show me
who loved me
and whom i must love
day zero commences
and tomorrow, its continuity
I was reading through some of my old journal posts. I've deleted a lot, for many reasons, but I've also kept a lot. It's such a strange thing, to read words I wrote years ago, to remember what it was like back then. I wouldn't want to go back.
The reason I kept this journal after all is because it chronicles who I've been, what I've become and how I've grown into this, and where I intend to go. It's a reminder to myself that I am stronger than I give myself credit for, that in my own weird way, I really am a fighter.
Look, I don't back down.
That would be an interesting title for an art series. "Look, I don't back down." I think I may just have been hit by inspiration. Black and white photography, a splash of color here and there, the focal point being myself. I'll admit; I may be a narcissist. I enjoy taking pictures of myself. I find myself interesting. Shallow? Perhaps. And believe it or not, in my pictures, I understand more of myself. Cameras capture things I'm not good at holding. Heartbreak, despair, hope, the unexplainable. Go back and look at some of my work; you'll understand or misunderstand me and eitherwayitmakesnodifferencetomebecauseiseewhatiseewiththesetwoeyes.
I am what I am. What am I? I. I am.
It's taken me a long time to get here. It's taken me many bruises and I've got many scars, but maybe I am growing into a strange mix of grownup/child. Maybe I was born old; old and tired and weathered, ruffled by winds and circumstances, and now I'm growing into my youth. It's a wonderful thing. Difficult, yes. I'm still the queen of delayed reactions and I'm afraid of many things. Life has done this to me. I fear things I shouldn't fear, I know, and I'm trying to branch out more.
It's true; I still have fears, but not as many. I'm letting go, my hands opening, the things that haunt me slipping through these crooked fingers. They hit the ground, but I don't see them anymore.
I am looking up,
up,
up,
up,
because
I got tired
of always looking
down,
down,
down.
Look, this crown is made of thorns but it's still minemineminemine. No, I learned to stop inflicting this pain on myself. I learned I was worth a thousand times more than insignificant wounds, than...