I haven’t been here in a while… I haven’t really felt inspired to bore anyone with the details of my life. The details haven’t been worthy of writing about anyway.
I survived Christmas. I guess that’s a victory. I can’t say that I wanted to, survive that is. I’ve made a few promises to friends that if I ever feel suicidal I’ll talk to them.
Was I sincere when I made the promise? No.
I just wanted to make them feel better and promising was the easy way to move on.
That being said, I’m kinda big on promises. I try my damnedest not to break them.
Lying in my bed on Christmas Eve, I flirted with my contingency plan, but thoughts of the promises kept surfacing, making their way up through the ocean of vodka I was trying to drown my feelings in.
First of all, would I call any of my friends on Christmas Eve (when they are happily celebrating with their friends and family) and tell them that I’m feeling suicidal?
Uuuuummmm fuck no. I’m not a complete fuckweasel.
And offing yourself at Christmas is just too pathetic and cliché.
So I just got drunk. I know, my coping powers are pretty goddamn amazing.
I also got a tattoo and my hair isn’t red anymore… my mental condition can be measured by my tattoos and hair color changes… like some weird dysfunctional barometer. It’s ok though, I love the new tattoo and the hair doesn’t look awful.
I, honestly, think that I can thank (or blame) the camera for helping me survive 2013.
Last week someone asked why I choose the subjects that I do for my photography (abandonments, specifically)… I can relate to them… they’re rejected, unloved, forgotten, ignored, not as pretty as they used to be, no longer useful, haunted… just like me. Maybe, together, the camera and I can save a little bit of these places, for posterity… and maybe, save me in the process??
I was asked “Why did you change your hair?” My answer “I wanted to be someone different, maybe, eventually I’ll be someone that I like.”
It just occurred to me, that this time last year, I was in
seems like a lifetime ago… Georgia
And New Year’s Eve… fuck… I find it hard to get excited about a new year… I really wish that I could though. It’s not like a have a dance card full of party invitations anyway… maybe I’ve been spending too much time in my hermit hole.
People say “You’ve got so many things to be happy about” and they’ll go so far as to enumerate them. Perhaps in an attempt to guilt me out of depression… I mean, that’s a proven effective method, right? But, I’m almost glad that people don’t understand… it means they haven’t lived it.