loving someone can often become so humiliating. like… is there anything more acutely embarrassing than having to admit to the person you love, who is leaving you, that you still care and you cannot pretending that you don’t. that ending everything is going to leave an infinite hole inside, and there isn’t a single thing you can do to stop it. I mean… it is the most embarrassing thing. it is humiliating to become so vulnerable, almost pathetic. you find yourself alone, barely able to form coherent sentences through the hurt. painfully aware of the broken promises, before you know it, one thing turns into another as you do your best to keep everything together… all while wanting to completely break down.
I choose to wear my heart on my sleeve. virtually, everyone has labels hanging over them. I would like to remove them, but the truth is, we are all larger than the labels people give us to confine and define us. my soul speaks through images, words, and art; every shutter captures another piece of the soul, converting fragments of my life into memories. I draw lines to cross and wear clothes to take off. I live with friction in my bed and fantasies in my head. I am living an eternal fairytale where everything is coated in love, love and more love. I am flashy, I am deep, and my heart is the centerfold. passion is essential in my life. too many people are simply living but very few are alive. forget about the plastics and the superficial. I want classy, I want trashy. give me anything that breathes with conviction: thinkers, lovers and leaders; people who turn love into paintings, people who turn tears into sonnets, people afraid of life but never afraid to live.