365 v.34 (076-090)
Here we go. Being 34 has certainly been an experience so far.
076/365
If I’m being honest, I want more time to waste.
077/365
Every time I’ve felt close to death, I was in a car. I wrote a long, vulnerable, difficult piece of personal history here. Details of experiencing abuse, terror, and suicidal ideation in cars. I decided not to share those stories just yet. I want to, and I will, but I’m not ready. It’s been a long road to healing, to driving again like I do. But I will say and remember this, above all else: I’m stronger and I’m happier than I’ve ever been… and I’ve been so strong against the odds all this time, even when I couldn't see or believe it.
078/365
Kisses. My little family. My everything.
079/365
Oh, I guess you can see me this way, too.
080/365
The summer before 9th grade, I messaged a cute boy from my future high school on AIM. He was in a band and had spiky blonde hair. We met down at the field between our homes and sat on the bleachers. We kissed and I felt a bright, crackling fire grow in my belly. My ears felt warm. My skin felt electric. Nothing ever came of this simple innocent moment, other than impressing a few of my giggling friends, but I felt like I could do anything back then. I could have and sometimes I did. But the years ahead became darker instead of brighter for me. I slithered far away and hid deep in myself. I can remember these small moments of bravery and excitement now, with a bittersweet fondness, the burden of knowing what came after. She was really special. I wish she could see me now.
081/365
My late night partner in crime while daddy is away, there to support my horror movie binging or my video game playing.
082/365
I’m in a toxic relationship with my phone and social media. I would say I was embarrassed about it if I didn’t know this is an issue with pretty much all of us. The world we live in right now facilitates the concept that we need it to experience (simulate) connection but I have always felt like it pushes me away from knowing the people I want to know. You don’t know me from these blurbs or my photos. I give one small offering of who I think I am or was, but you still believe what you believe. It’s so strange. When I was a kid, real friendship online was possible, but our worlds were so much smaller. MySpace surveys felt like enough. And we were lonely. I hope my words and photos can sometimes bridge that gap, but we all need to take more breaks from this shit.
083/365
I call Hiro my funny bunny. I say, “Do you know why he’s a funny bunny?” to Mike. He’s probably used to it now, but he entertains me. Why? “It’s because he’s not a bunny at all. How funny.” I’ll probably have a million photos like this one day and I’ll never be tired of it.
084/365
Red light used to carve a hole in my heart and inside it I felt so empty and angry. But I see it now: the red light was my anchor. The red light helped me drift and disappear from my body. The serpent led me there; constricting, coiling in the warmth of red beneath my quiet gasps, beside my silent tears. The red light confused and terrified me for so long, but the red light was my anchor. Red light in red sheets. I am home in my body now. The red light is my warmth now, as I coil up in its glow. The serpent led me here.
085/365
I bought this graphite drawing of a dog, named Browny, from a thrift store a few years back. It’s dated 1918. It says underneath, erased over, “Mrs Ralson’s Baby.” I felt a real kinship with this person having artwork made of their canine companion.
086/365
When Hiro met Henryk, the 3ft swinging ghoul.
087/365
Sleepy and shedding.
088/365
You have never made me feel hard to love. Even when I tell you I need time or space, you have never made me feel hard to love. Even when I share all of these nightmarish stories from my life, you have never made me feel hard to love. You are always behind me and I believe it.
089/365
If I could tell my younger self something, it would be to give less of a fuck. I held onto sinking ships, all to protect myself from feeling lonely or feeling pain. You need to feel it. You’re going to anyway, is the thing.
090/365
Trying to see the person you see in me when I am having a hard time. No one has ever made me smile like you do. You tell me you love the wrinkles and fine lines on my face, the riverbeds of my skin, whenever I wonder if these signs of my aging make me lesser. You tell me you’re so lucky. You tell me you are proud of who I have made myself into, you say I am so strong and so soft in all the right ways. I feel a little broken and cold lately, but you keep me warm.