Ah sweet depression, my ever present comforter-controller. We are but on the eve of our fifth year since you were brought into existence. Or perhaps it was just acknowlegement and you were here with me all along. What shall I cover you up with next? Insistent planning of an ever-nearing future? I've used up all excuses to splurge my "hard-earned savings". Although I'm sure I could always think of more.
And what have you brought along with you? It seems to me as though misery, deception and failure are never far from your side. I wallow in my self pity, only to be angry at myself for not cheering up. This in turn causes more self pity, knowing that I'm ungrateful and will never be good enough to love because I, myself, do not love. Ironically, its myself I do not love. I decieve myself, trying to be thinner, quieter, louder, less "curvy", tanner, less of myself. Deception is a recipe for failure, for everyone knows that if you decieve yourself, you'll only fail at impossible, most-likely imagined, unrealistic goals. Thus, the cycle of depression begins again, stronger, if not moreso, than the last round.
And so, here I sit, after a personal photo-shoot. One that I began to capture my true self in the moment. One that I left, only after editing and "perfecting" every picture that I deemed "worthy". Who sets these standards? One could always blame the media. Or the age old "all bad things are a result of sin". But do/are we do(ing) anything about it? Once again I'm moving from subject to subject, not connecting them enough to make sense to anyone other than myself. But then again, isn't that what it's all about? Our personal struggle and accomplishments through this mess we call life? And does anyone ever find the meaning of life; before the life they were trying to fill with meaningfulness is over and forgotten?
For fear of becoming too philisophical for my own understandings, I will end here and leave you with the "beauty" I've captured in these wee hours.
And what have you brought along with you? It seems to me as though misery, deception and failure are never far from your side. I wallow in my self pity, only to be angry at myself for not cheering up. This in turn causes more self pity, knowing that I'm ungrateful and will never be good enough to love because I, myself, do not love. Ironically, its myself I do not love. I decieve myself, trying to be thinner, quieter, louder, less "curvy", tanner, less of myself. Deception is a recipe for failure, for everyone knows that if you decieve yourself, you'll only fail at impossible, most-likely imagined, unrealistic goals. Thus, the cycle of depression begins again, stronger, if not moreso, than the last round.
And so, here I sit, after a personal photo-shoot. One that I began to capture my true self in the moment. One that I left, only after editing and "perfecting" every picture that I deemed "worthy". Who sets these standards? One could always blame the media. Or the age old "all bad things are a result of sin". But do/are we do(ing) anything about it? Once again I'm moving from subject to subject, not connecting them enough to make sense to anyone other than myself. But then again, isn't that what it's all about? Our personal struggle and accomplishments through this mess we call life? And does anyone ever find the meaning of life; before the life they were trying to fill with meaningfulness is over and forgotten?
For fear of becoming too philisophical for my own understandings, I will end here and leave you with the "beauty" I've captured in these wee hours.
Blogger is being tight and only letting me upload two. If you're truly interested in the others, be warned, they're very raw and somewhat disturbing.
Now you know.
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