This is a rather long journal. If you want to skip to the important part, hop on down to the bold heading.
Lately I've been doing a lot of 'life thinking'. I've realized some pretty important things.
I guess it's natural for a teenager to wonder who they are, and to question their place in the world. But I seem to have none, even amongst artists and friends. I belong nowhere, even in my own mind and imagination.
For example. If you're lost out at sea, you can imagine the ship to rescue you. If you're stranded in the desert, you can clearly picture that beautiful oasis just over the hill. I cannot. I am lost without a direction, and without any point of destination or fixation.
I cannot picture the person I want to be. Every time I try, I begin to hate her as quick as she comes to my mind. It is all very depressing.
In short, I don't know why I'm alive. I don't know what I enjoy. I have no idea how I'd like to spend my future.
While doing all this wondering I realized that I am also a horrible artist. Partially because the pictures I take are awful, but more-so because I have so little range of emotion. An artist is supposed to be someone who can convert feelings into something to look at, to touch or feel. Art is supposed to be an experience.
I do very little living. I mostly just think about things, but I rarely go out and do them. I make no decisions that I can avoid making.
I am not an artist. I am a lost soul impersonating an artist because it is the easiest thing to do at the moment.
Maybe you're wondering what's brought all this on. I am too. I think it's because I've fallen in love, but it's a different kind of love than I'm used to. It's harder. A little hateful, and kind of generally angry. Like in those movies where the characters have a horrible fight and make up with ridiculous sex. Sigh.
And I think it's this kind of love because I'm tired
of being in love. Because I hate how lonely and unfulfilled and stranded
I am. Love is liquid pain, searing hot and poured over one's body as they try desperately to get away from it.So how does all of this affect us?
Well, I considered giving up photography. I've really thought about it long and hard. And I decided that I don't want to do that.
All this time, I've been pretending to be a photographer. I'm not actually one. I don't feel like one. So, I'm going to be one. Make myself, mold *me*, around this. I figure it's all that I have right now, and I don't want to give it up.
However, I am going to stop my 365 day project. I might begin a 52 weeks project soon, but this taking pictures every day is mentally and physically exhausting. I don't like to blame my illness on things, but I think it's contributing to how taxing this all is. Also, I've been completely blowing off my school work to edit and such, and my grades are starting to reflect it.
Right now, I need to focus on myself. I'm sorry to disappoint you all.