To seek and thee shall find…

Yesterday I indugled in one of my favourite hobbies, i went urbexing, in Albania. Albania is a Urbexers paradise, it combines half finished houses where people live, to bare skeletons which rest like ghosts among the lived in houses. Then you have these buildings that due to the communist regime have been abandoned. These ones are my favourite. To play amongst the forgotten, the decay and ghosts of what ‘once was’. I told my boyfriend bout the this building i wanted to visit and due to him being Albanian he insisted on coming with me to ensure i was safe. I find this cute. Partly because of the natural instinct to protect and the fact he doesn’t know I am unlike any girl he has ever come across before. I am a total badass. I am more like a Albanian man, than girl, but he has never seen that side to me, partly because i have never had to use it because i feel safe with him. The natural human instinct when in a situation that is dangerous or threatens us, is attack. I know this all to well, i have done in countless times before. Which although I am not proud of i dare for someone else to of been in my situation and just sat there and cried. Saying that, i have never been the girl to sit and cry, I am just not that type of girl. I am a ‘tornado in a teacup’ – like that expression.

I have lived over in this country now for just over a week, and i have saved one dog that wasn’t wanted, and a kitten that was close to deaths door. My partner has been so gracious with my plight to save these animals. He asked me why i wanted to save them, and i simply replied ‘Because everyone deserves to be saved’. This is my downfall i invest in things that need to be saved, sometimes to my own painful consequences. However, Leo sat with me as i cradled the kitten, and said, ‘Hey babe, why i could not of met you sooner’ – a sentence i have heard before. In Albania, compassion, caring and kindness is valued above all other things. The character of a person is how they earn respect. They have such hearts and soul’s that they wear there human flesh more as underwear. Now there are some dodgy as fuck Albanians, but thats true for every nationality. But due to Albanian’s suffering from poverty, and despair, death and torture under the communist ruling it did, its people knows hunger, they know loneliness and hopelessness. This is what gives them the ability to share what little they have to not let others ever feel the burden they have felt. And i relate so much to this mentality and soul. They have little but they love and care a lot.

The only downfall for these people is the way they drive, there motto should be ‘Drive it like you stole it’ – The only thing that Albanians are selfish with is driving. They drive like they have places to be, yet they have 6 hours of their day spend drinking coffee. They take everything at leisure they enjoy life and food, and most of them have vegetarian dishes of food that are exquisite. I have never tasted better food than here in Albania.

The things we discard based on our;
mood
emotions
frame of mind
knowledge
is one that sets our soul on fire. As humans we believe that what we discard is acceptable based on how we feel or think. This is so backwards thinking. I have discarded people and items based on feelings and lack of knowledge. We discard a household item based upon our lack of knowledge of how to fix it and restore it. We do that with people, and their emotions also. If we cannot relate or understand the way someone is thinking or feeling we discard them, especially when a argument has ensued.

I heard a beautiful quote the other day ‘A clear conscious makes for a comfortable pillow’ – This was so true. I spend a lot of my time thinking of the past or the future and pay little attention to the now, until it throws me a curveball of some sort. My new year and growth over this last year has encouraged me to live more in the now, and to not discard anything based on my humaness. I have a meeting left with one person that will come easter of this year i can feel it in my soul. See when you spend enough time alone, you have your soul for company and you start to learn a new language. It is when you learn this language your conscious becomes a pillow of nails, or a lavender infused heaven. I am not tortured by none of my decisions as i know that the ones i need to learn again, as i didn’t learn the first time, will come around again as i am open to them.

Theres the ego and the soul, and the ego panics as it knows its time is limited and can be jeopardised so easily. The soul is patience because it knows its eternal and true to its destination. Many people preach, but few practice what they preach. And some preach and think they practice what they preach to convince themselves of their pureness, but in truth they will never gain peace and pureness until they have made a mends.

I danced around this building taking pictures and my boyfriend bitched about getting dirty, hahahaha – he finally got into the vibe of it and indulged in being free. He commented on the way i would take pictures look at them and smile, the way i walked into what must of been to him the most hideously ugly room and i commented how beautiful it was. -Its ok he knows his girlfriend is strange. And he loves me that bit harder for it, because to be strange, and innocent and pure of soul is hard to find, an Albanian should know. How we have treated others reflects on how we value ourselves- He understands this so much. What we have done to other people through the course of our lives will always come back to use times three. So what we have done to someone in one relationship will come back to us times three in another relationship, its the way of the universe and synchronicity. The only way to avoid this kick is to make true peace with those people. I know in Easter time i will have completed this for the soul ties and contracts i have in this life.

Until that time i will stay with Leo, and dance in derelict buildings, and eat beautiful food and be among people who have no motive….. just love. I can be a million different things to a million different people, but to Leo i am myself. I make him tell me stories in his language and i understand a few, we laugh, and play and he says how i remind him of a child when i play. He reads my eyes like no one else, he understands their language. We have jokes and he reads me so well … but that is because i do not hide from him…who i am or what i’am as i have no fear of him rejecting me, or betraying me. The trick is….. to love like you have never been hurt, and to trust like you have never been betrayed. Its hard, but not impossible. He makes it easier because he never makes me feel unworthy or insecure. He is my strength, and i am his weakness. A man always has a weakness, if it is not for his children it is for his woman. A Albanian man will never show weakness as they pride themselves on masculinity, but everyone knows a Albanian man’s weakness will be his woman.

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Something more … 

What occurs when you leave pieces of yourself in someone else … and they leave? 

It is a common thing to want to retrieve the pieces of you, that you once gave in good faith of it being treasured and protected. Cherished by the person whom you gave them too. But sometimes they leave and deny you them pieces, they take them and leave you unwholesome. Somewhat broken, incomplete. You have to accept the apology you never got and the truths that you were denied. It is a terrible fate to be incomplete and full of unanswered questions…. a wound that refuses to heal, despite the best nursing. 
For the thousands of years of the human race we still cannot love. We only choose who we want to love dependant on how they make us feel. In Greece some months ago on a visit I was in a place of limbo. My feet were in Greece, my heart given to a man in Norway, and my mind flitting from paranoia and hurt, to hope and resurrection. The culture of Greece was beautiful the people kind and welcoming.  One person in particular conjured something deep within me. Not for the way they washed me in compliments, as he didn’t, not for the way they desired me, which they never did show. Instead they watched me, from a far, from a safe distance. They watched the way people interacted with me, the way people were drawn to me, because I was just me, no mask, no pretence… just living in the moment. Yet this person was polite whenever they found themselves in mine and my daughters company. They become a friend, they saw me cry one day, as I wrote a blog. They stared concerned but darent not approach … and over coffee aromas and the Greek sun, we talked, we talked of love, of hurt, of life, and of all the different cultures and people.

They changed my perspective of specific things, things I never thought I could compromise upon. And we laughed, he laughed so well, so hard, we smiled, coy smiles. And we felt more than just the Greek sun when we were in each other’s company. My heart maybe wasn’t in Norway, maybe it was just burried. Maybe I burried it, to hide it, protect it.  

He didn’t believe in a soul, and yet I saw his… and it was kind, and patience, it was intrigued and it was respectful. Upon my last day I spent it with him, we spent it skimming pebbles in the sea, having coffee and never telling each other how much we actually were drawn to one another. He said to me he didn’t want to say goodbye to me when I left. I understood, as goodbyes tear me apart too. He left for work at half past six and he came to say goodbye, he kept his distance, but I could not. I threw my arms around him and burried my head in his neck, I absorbed his smell. It was divine, I let the evening sun burn my shoulders as I felt my body pressed against his. His embrace was not firm or tight he didn’t want to embrace me. And I knew it was because if he did embrace me, he would have to let me go. I held back the choking of my tears. And let him go, I  pushed him away and turned away from him. I didn’t see him leave…. but I felt it. 
I lay on the lounger and saw everyone’s eyes upon me. The girl who showed no interest in none of the handsome men who wanted to lavish her with attention and affection… who sort all week for hers. And to all of them I she denied it, including the person whom I now wished would come back and embrace me. Tight. 

Half hour passed by and my mind was torturing me…. my heart began to beat. I could feel it, but I dare not give it any attention. 

He returned to the pool area, a mirage I thought, until I seen the blood on his shirt, his brow tight with anger. The blood droplets marbling his pale blue work shirt. He stared at me as he passed and said nothing, my concern and panic fixated on him behind my sunglasses. In secret, and in love. When he stood alone in the toilets, I approached and stood in the doorway, I asked him of his safety? And he told me of a accident he had with his bike. A panic and concern rose in me, but a lustful desire to taste him overpowered me. I walked towards him my feet bare and his eyes gave in to me…I stood  infront of him and leant in… he grabbed me and thrust me up against the counter top… his hand grabbing at my thigh, raising my summerdress. I throbbed, I throbbed for him to kiss me harder and hurt me with passion and love.

 He did, my back cracked up against the steel tap, and I enjoyed the pain and the lust. His hand on my thigh, his body pressed up against mine, nothing else existed apart from his lips on mine, and his desire, my desire. My spine was electrified, something I had not felt for years…. a kiss can ignite so much in someone. I kissed him and he kissed me back and I tasted my future. 

The way he nursed the second syllable of my name like a dying lover as his heavy accent told me how he hated this kiss, was a goodbye kiss. In that drunken moment in despair and love, I promised to see him again. He left ten minutes late and my heart beat, not burried but firmly in my chest. The travel home was welcomed, but it was frought with tears and longing. 

As a summer love affair dies, and ours never really started…we both thought the feelings would fade, the thoughts of one another would evaporate. And the missing and longing would be replaced. They haven’t …. they won’t. It is the first time in many many months I realise I had left pieces of me in my ex lover in Norway… but I had some pieces of my heart left, and I gave one away in Greece. I had unanswered questions and so many lies left from my ex lover in Norway…. but the guy from the Greek island of kos, answered them for me. I am enough, I am worthy of being faithful too…. 

maybe sometimes we focus on all the pieces that are missing from us, that we forget to see all the beautiful pieces we still have left. And that we have to be more careful who we give them too. 

Fate brought me as a last minute to the island of kos. Fate brought me a friend someone to cross my path and show me something about the world and myself. And the universe brought him back to me so I could taste my future …. 

Enlightement

If you surround yourself with cold dirt, then cold dirt is what will feel familiar … cold, dirt. If you surround yourself with warm and sand, then that two shall feel familiar. What we surround ourselves with becomes the perspective in which we perceive the world.
This is the same for whom we surround ourselves with, for if we surround ourselves with like minded people, life will be easy, and it will narrow, if we surround ourselves with people whom do not think like us, whom do not perceive the world as we do, we are enlighten. Enlightened to another culture, way of thinking, insight to the world, the revelations, diversity is the world from the ferns to the sky. They have nothing in common but the sky shall inspire the fern with its height, the fern shall inspire the sky with its cycle of colours throughout the season. Their is inspiration and englightment in everything, if you want to see it. The english langauge has the equivelent of 171,476 words. When talking to another person if you cannot use any of the 171,476 words to be kind, then maybe you should look to yourself for enlightement. A human being should be respectful to another human being. We have the same anatomical heart ….. our blood is the same colour. Our eyes as beautiful in all shades… our minds as beautiful as they are complex and unique. The thing that i love most about humans are their ability to change, to become better, more determined, to solve problems, to be kinder. We all have a soul and our soul deep down all wants us to be kind, to be loved, and to give love, and empathy and compassion. All you have to do is be enlighted to the feel and voice of your soul. Your soul is the person who wills you to do good. That if you do bad, was the deep ache and voice inside telling you not too, the voice and feeling you ignored, maybe because of your physical feelings and emotions. Emotions are physical, they can affect your soul, but they do not control your soul, only your reactions.

So … if i react poorly out of anger, it is my choice to react, this can be through being hurt, through guilt, frustration, but it will never be my soul, that will make me act with anger. If i should become upset and cry, I could cry out of frustration or physical pain, or loss, however because i have empathy this is directly linked to my soul, and i can become overwhelmed with empathy for someone and cry. This empathy can be linked to the soul as the soul is another thing all human being have, it is the coat hanger to the flesh we carry round with us everyday. The soul is energy, and sometimes we feel the energy of people before we see or know their intentions. If you feel uneasy with someone, its their energy, its their soul, it does not mean they are a bad person, as i said no soul is bad. But some people soul’s can be damaged, lost and somewhat stranded through the physical world we live in. If i was to be told every day i was worthless and i was beaten with insults and names, i could become angry at the world and other people for the way i was treated and my energy would be negative and my presences be felt as that way. I think some people are sent into our lives to help heal us, or our souls, to guide them a bit, love them a bit, and nourish them a bit. These people are the secret angels that empathise too much, love too much, care without restrictions, and only ever want the best healing for the damaged souls. But sometimes the damaged souls, lash and hurt ours in the journey of us trying to heal them. Unfortunately they sometimes never realise this, or the things we have done, the love we have purely spent, and that our scars as empaths are so much deeper than those of unaware beings.

Some times the damaged souls we are set on a path to heal will discard us when we are no longer required, and that is ok, that is their choice. Othertimes you wish that you could help them more, as their narrow minded earth brain is still not awakened and neither is their potiential. But sometimes you have to hold them out and let them go…. and hope they survive and do well with all you have given, and taught them.

who are/were you?

Are you comfortable in your skin? is there a hollow or a ache, a longing or a absent sense of belonging? Yeah thats ok, i have it too. A piece of me is missing. I have my own black hole inside me. But, I am ok with that. I haven’t blogged in a long time, due to alot of reasons. When i become somewhat depressed if you will. I close down. I let very few people in. This is normal – I am told. My photography has always been a strength or resource to get me through the depression, to release the emotions the thoughts, to set them free. Before my lungs implode, from holding my breath, while screaming at myself not to cry. I learnt a very sharp lesson a few weeks ago.I was hospitalized because of previous physical problems. And in that week I learnt who everyone around me truly was. I had people who were two faced finally splatter how they felt and who they were at me. It was disgusting, and to be honest a welcomed relief. I wiped away the bitter and cynical slathering of a perspective that was projectile vomited onto me by this person. There was another person who i also let go from my life. This was a figure who comes with expectations when they are blood related, or at least paternal. But, i had alot of closure from their departure. A sense of relief and a knot that disintegrated in my stomach as soon as I saw the ‘real’ them. Again i wiped away the negativity that spat from their tongue. And like a snake shedding skin i felt anew. I decided to loose a man from my life and it was ultimately the fact that whenever i come to be in a situation whereby all i needed was emotional support, he is beyond unavailable. He was more….. ummm in a selfish coma of his own. But, there agin he always was. |I saw this man foe who he was, selfish and ignorant, and arrogant. I had seen these traits before, but they stung a little more this time.

When the fluorescent lights click off and the distant cough or shuffle of bed sheets on a ward are all you are comforted by. You realise who you actually would love to be there with you. The constant drugs through IV keep me numb enough not to scream or cry myself to sleep. The thoughts that whispered like the blue dressed ghosts on the night shift came and went. Leaving a sting in my body, somewhere. While in hospital i lost the choice. I had been told i was ‘lucky’ to survive. I had been told ‘it is time.’

It is a phrase that whirls as i go to sleep now….. ‘It is time.’ The time whereby a decision is made by you, for you. Or it is a decision made by another for you. I made so many decisions in that hospital stay. To lock two people out of my life. To welcome the one in and try to not loose him – i’m still working on that one. Also to never let myself believe or trust the intentions or words of the compulsive sleazy liar i knew didn’t care for anyone but himself and his needs. I made a decision he was a boy. He was/is/always immature, selfish and gutless. A coward to himself. I left that hospital knowing my dad loved me, even though he was estranged (through no fault of his own) for my childhood through to my adulthood. It was time to make a decision, and I did. I went to Paris and done my wedding work. I tried to make something work and I failed. Well i didn’t, just some people will never change its in their DNA. I decided to finish my last year in Uni and go to my graduation ceremony next year – I wasn’t going to go. And i have to book seats. So i decided that i want my dad to see one of my achievements, as he was denied so many. My uncle, whom is a/was a massive influence in my early years and later years in my life. Even his absences was a influence.A driving force so to speak. And my daughter as if it weren’t for her I am pretty certain i wouldn’t be here. And because she has had to sacrifice certain things while i study, and never once has she complained. The child who has given me more of everything, and anything, than i could ever hope to give.

The people in my life now are people whom I dearly love. From BBQs up my amazing dad’s, with my closest friend James, and my oldest friend Mark, to the ever surprising Justin. All of these men know me. They know me and observe me and connect to me for different reasons. These men combined have a weight to them. A sturdiness in my life. They have such vastly different backgrounds, and previous and current professions, and hobbies and interests. Yet, me my dad, James, mark and Justin sat with a current of intrigue and interest in each other. A genuine one a pure love, and energy driven by respect and principals. It would of taken my Uncle to of been there for it to be my favourite place and scene in the whole world. The lesson I learnt that night, was what comes with love. With the love I can relate too and understand. If i know someone loves me I can feel it. I can feel it in their energy their tone. And then i know i am safe. Thats all anyone wants to be, is to be loved and safe. With being loved as a child by my uncle, I felt, I was safe. A protector from the woman i called my mother. – so If freud had any theories the early childhood linking of love is a pretty solid one for me.

So now I am a month on….. I am free of cervical cancer. I am awaiting a big operation. I am at peace with the people in my life. I love and dote on each one and thank the universe every day for their existence. As I was able to compare the standards I should hold a man too, what a man ‘should’ be and what a person should hope to be. I am never going to be comfortable in my skin, locked in a purgatory with my mind. But, I am comfortable with being uncomfortable. I laugh alot, I smile at every beautiful sky. I watch the way everything can be magic if you look at it from the right angle. I am excited to close a chapter on a person I never thought i could ever possibly not want in my life. But, with what they brought with them, I am happy they took it all with them too. My anxiety is beautiful my nails are long. My quick witt is back and my dark humour. My passion for life and fun and love is seeping from every pour. I broke and now ‘It is time’ to put everything back together again. My way. For me. As thats what i deserve and i will take from the universe, everyone and everything that ignites me.

 

Finally today someone said to me “Being around you luc, it kinda feels like being around someone famous, or different – Like the way you light up, and are so raw and honestly funny. The way your are its like a bubble and when i see you in person its surreal. Its like you give me something, but you dont give me anything. I just feel good” – I am hoping that  what he said i took the right way. I am a spark, I am light, and I can make someone feel alive. Its a gift. Its what makes me, me. And those who meet me or spend anytime with me, will understand what this means. Today soothed my soul in a way i needed it lifted and rejuvenated my energy. (she says at 1am)

 

Its ok to be lost, as long as you’re not lost and hurting people. Thats not ok.

They are alive……

Its a one oclock blog again. I wonder why I do these blogs. I wonder who reads them, if anyone, and what they think. These are seconds that last for a moment and i am cautious of what i say. Then like the ticking of a clock my fingers sing on a keyboard and everything pours. I don’t like to think too much. As its never good. Not for me anyway. Relationships are funny things, you take two humans. These are from different walks of life, different values and experiences and throw them together. I always view the start of a relationship as a ……. Child playing with clay. When she has moulded her visions she then plays with them in her imaginary world of pretend. I think thats what we do, or I at least. I have a pretend world where i have made my clay man. To keep him there i have to play fair. To keep him strong and not for him to crack and crumble i have to understand the way he was made. But i don’t. I don’t understand me. So I am at a loss before i could ever conceive to win. Then in my pretend world everything is great. We can mould each other and smooth over the cracks. But in actuality it doesn’t get smoothed over. I choose my human and decided to love him and play with him in my pretend world. But i knew reality would make him crumble. I am just convincing myself i am now unloveable. Its not really the greatest ego boost that my ex cheated on me for two years and for the last year he still couldn’t be faithful. He would flirt with girls and send such pictures i would find out and feel sick. He handed me complex after complex and insecurities that made me shake.  Then i met another man, he was broken and not whole. I think i attract them you know.

I always saw a relationship of a somewhat unity. A team. If i was going to war the person i was with i would want on my platoon as i know they have my back. Yet i dated a guy a bullet, thats engraved and i wear it around my neck. It has a message inscribed but it was in the language he knew so a lie. I decided that I would wear it not because i love him, but because it was one of the many bullets in his gun that killed me and made me weak. But At least i knew he would never leave me. Then i met this other guy. No insecurities, no girls perfection could of been a good word. But then i spiralled and i fell and i descended to hell. Now my demobs are happy as they have me back. It was quiet lovely really how they welcomed me back. They stay up all night with me, and if ever i need company they are always there. I married demons so i can never marry a man.

I confided in a friend of what made me spiral. And as a friend does they show concern. It was nice to acknowledge the disease i have investigated and learnt thats eating me. Ooooooooh no this time its not my mind. This time its not my bipolar. I think if it wasn’t for my bipolar i maybe worse. I have the disease that consumes so many and that the word alone instills fear. It actually made me freeze. My blood ran so cold a splinter of ice must of pierced my heart, as i gasped for air. Cancer i dare. The womanly parts of me are being eaten alive. Im twenty nine and i have a unbalanced mind and a disease eating me alive. The insecurities rise and i feel bile thrown at the back of my throat. I could cry but i haven’t yet. Not over the thing that i just learnt. I think i’m numb or still coming to terms with this vile thing harbouring inside my womb. Like a spawn of satan i’m nurturing it and letting it feed on me. I am a beautiful host.  I actually can feel my breath unsteady as i filter through this truth. I admitted this two two people. Two which i trust and love and know would do anything to see me smile. But still i sit here in my ex boyfriends zip through hoodie, it faintly smells of him. Wearing dungarees bought for me as a sorry from the cheating ex, and the things i am wearing which look the best are fresh scars. Another chapter of my fucked up life. There was a time where my life was quiet happy and calm. Oh dear lord i wish for that again so bad. The marrow of my bone ache for it. They also ache for a warm embrace. But i know to be hugged would leave this little fighter with a tear stained face.

When it was revealed what i now have to face the cancer of a woman’s delicate place I was shocked nad scared then last night at 5 am i sat out my back garden. The stars weren’t too bright, but the warmth of the night kept me company. The sounds of cars passing on the road behind me made me smile. I wonder how their life differes from mine. I thought about writing, but couldn’t bare to hold my favourite pen. Then a thought crossed my mind, what if this is a pleasure of my life. I have contemplated suicide and attempted it a few more. What if now, ‘This’ disease is here to save and finish me. In a dignified way of course. As suicide is always a frowned upon course. Maybe i have created the work i was suppose too…. release the poems and art i should. Maybe i have changed a few lives, as i know a few have changed mine. I have done alot of good i know in my life, and been a good person to those i know and those i don’t, and those who haven’t deserved my time, but at least if I am lowered into the earth they will know they got more than they deserved and i can sleep peaceful. I tear slide down my face and the smile spread across my face. I own my thoughts and thats what i love about me, I’m not afraid to challenge those of a narrow or closed mind, not to win a argument but to enlighten their life’s. I have handed my notice into three magazines i write for and two support groups i run, one for young kids with self harm issues and one for support and counselling for parents of children who self harm and who have a mental disorder. My own mother do not even know of these jobs, or where i give my time willingly. My own mother knows nothing of my illness as i don’t see the point, she never made me feel ok or accepted for having a mental disorder. So why would she want to support me now, when she can just ignore and spend time with the ‘normal’ child she has. I am not bitter a part of me was. But i know i have done nothing wrong not to deserve what she has or has not done as the case stands. I am due now to turn down the book offer to have a book published, which i started to write. AS i don’t want to be stressed out right now. Writing books are hard. I have my university papers sat on my desk ready to submit to finish my last year. Even though when i printed them off i knew….. spending some time alone has made me think what do i want to be doing for a year? travelling,……… or photographing a series or two that will will remain should anything happen to me. As it’s not as simple as scrape and remove and then a few appointments to ensure things have been cut away. So maybe i will read, read every book i wanted to read. I will travel, travel to the places i want too. Maybe i will visit a few close friends who have been there from the start of my photography journey before i even knew it was a path i would go on to choose.

 

I will visit one man before the year is out. This time four and a half years ago, a man gave me the greatest tip in the world. (shadows) This man has a piece of my heart today. And i want to hold him in a embrace and thank him. For when i have doubted my work, my direction, the purpose of it all….. My darling Luca is there with his Italian charm. He has lasted longer than relationships and gave me more joy than most of them.  And even though i hate Germany, I will find him there.

 

Tomorrow i go and drive for a hour to a tattoo studio to be tattooed. The artist is amazing and I am dying to having this piece on me as for six years i have been in love with the concept of the piece. And i finally put it together and now i get to have a beautiful memoir of it. Then i will have my favourite poem inscribed on my thigh…. a quote or two more and when i lay on the slab or a cold mortuary cradle… I hope they read my tattoos and admire my artwork…. I will be a beautiful corpse in death as i was in life.

Now to try and sleep as seven hours of sleep in five days is something thats killing me. Stopping on lot of medication to be able to undergo treatment is a wonderful way to test my instability. But hey, it makes good pictures…. so at least my instability and insanity will never leave me….. never thought i would say i was actually grateful for that.

 

 

He fell in love with, with a…- A strange girl.

I have decided to blog, only a paragraph for now. Today i have indugled in having my front door open to cool me in the breeze that sulks in. I have subjected my hears and soul, and my neighbours to Hozier, Slipknot, Korn Sabbath, Rye and some Celin Dion. Well variety is the death of life ….

Through all of the songs i noticed the beat in my heart and the thoughts that filtered through….I am a strange girl. Oh i do not complain of this conclusion. But i do wonder what man can fall in love with a strange girl?  I wonder if his hair is long, or his fangs sharp. I wonder if his hand trembles when he concentrates. I wonder for what his accent will be and when he speaks will the words be true. I wonder if his body will be etched with scars or art or if he will keep his thoughts in his head his anger in his fists and his soul deeep inside and he will just be a blank canvas on the outside.

A man made love to my mind last night, and it was the best sex i never had. The man excited me and it was a long time since such nerves had electrified my skin. He lives a million miles away and his accent made me smile. His intelligence made me miss the man i lost some years ago when i wasn’t such a strange girl. I was conforming to him, loving him and his rules, because he made love to my mind better than to my body. His knowledge made me fantasized and it got me through some hard times. He would lay with me, my head on his lap and tell me things and stroke my hair. His accent would soothe my mood, my panic or anger. I could leak a tear for the man i left behind……Then i almost found him again.This man had accent and eyes the colour of burnt honey, and in the sunlight they were of a pond green. That mans eyes now, i fell in love with as the light revealed the depths and colours they held. He knew i was a strange girl…. his tone was calm and his stare was meek…. I never once saw a glimmer of anger. I fell in love with this mans brokeness, Its a shame to say it is what ended us. But his smell lingers in my mind and every time i see the sun setting in the sky i want to cry. I don’t want to look, i dont want to see the colour and how beautiful it can be. How it can transform and ignite my soul. I rather stay awake and watch the sunrise. And i dont even care to much, he stole my sunset. And a little part of me hates him for that.

So now i wonder if he will come back to me…. or if he will choose to  leave me this way….. I am a strange girl and i want my sunset back….. and the man that sat beside me running his fingers through my hair….. telling me of unknown wonders to me. But when i turned to look at him, all i saw was a broken man, and i knew it wouldnt be long before he couldnt stand….. A strange girl she is……

 

A unbalanced mind, a silent fighter only feeling peace in the humming of the night. A beautiful creature she can be, but then she can transform to a creature so free, uncaring and careless that she fly’s away free….. It will take a man who understands ecstacsy and agony and their need to exist in everything especially love. To her, love is pain. It s always been this way. Art is a release, blood letting is where she finds peace and her soul and love is inked into her skin. But to get close enough to read her tatoos and feel her scars you have to be armed. As vicious she can be because no one has ever came in peace without a excuse to eventually leave…….I will give you so many reasons to leave. But if you can stand before me and tell me one reason why you want to stay. I guess i will give in, and love you anyway.

Coffee and cigarettes …

Its a early hours in the morning kind of blog again. Bipolar kicks my arse and sometimes i let it… its nice to feel something other than medicatedly numb.

I was inspired to buy a camera because my heart got broke… I knew nothing of the damn thing, only the man who broke my heart had one. He captured images of me i was his subject and his muse. Then my heart was broke and he became my muse. Every image was haunted with him. Things i wanted to say or scream, things i wish he would see. Other things i just needed to release… find a part of me. With every self portrait i looked at the mens, like i did before when he held it. I gave the expression with my eyes. As a model you are not allowed to pull a expression with your face, no muscles must move within your face but you must pull your emotion through your eyes as if it were your soul, your heart. And you had it over to the camera. As soon as that shutter shuts, its captured a part of your soul. Anyone can pout, and anyone can smile, but to say it with your eyes… and let someone read your mind and soul is being naked.

It was through my images i met another man….. I thought my heart was broken and i had lost the love of my life. Then ‘this’ man strolled in. Well strolled is the wrong word, more like crashed. And for the first time in so long i actually ‘felt’ i felt something other than hollowness…. emptiness and anger. I felt love again. We went through so much from him leading a double life. From anger and rage, from both of us. From trust issues to lies. From prison and restraining orders and random stalking and phone calls. Theres always that pull. I think in loving him, i lost a piece of me. Every image over the last three years has some way been inspired by him. If it wasn’t through hurt, or anger, or betrayal. It was through despair it was through confusion. It was through painful aching love and worthlessness i felt. He was my inspiration. Every hurtful word he would say, would inspire me in some way. Every lovely gesture would inspire me. He is my portfolio, of my emotions, my journey. I think because of the bipolar i may feel alot deeper or react alot stronger to situations. Maybe its the writer in me? maybe its the melancholic soul i have? Maybe its because i’m a hopeless romantic? Maybe its because i don’t want to believe i fell in love with a monster and then he turned me into one. Theres alot of maybes and questions and ill probably never get them answered not really. Truth is i don’t want them answered as then i’m in a reality of the real. I have never been much fond of that. Maybe i read to many books and enjoy being tragically in love. Where is the fun in being happy? Its alien to me, it scares me, it panics me. It terrifies me. At least when things are wrong you know they can get any worse. But to be happy and then to fall…….. i know what that feels like. The happier you are the higher the height you fall from. So my advice ‘ never get to happy, enjoy it, but don’t think it will last. Trust me it never does’

 

Now for the worst confession of all time……. ‘Happiness writes white’ If i am happy no images appear, if I am happy no poems are written. I am inspired by heartbreak, by depression, by pain and by being hurt. I am a fucked up girl.  Theres ‘life’ and ‘death’ and then there nothing but sadness in-between, thats what i capture…. thats what I release. Everyone can look at a pretty image, only those who know the colour of the depths of depression and pain can look at ones that aren’t pretty and see the beauty. I guess thats why i wont do pretty pictures…. I don’t want fame from my images or to be ‘well known’ I refuse commissions that aren’t my style and pass them on to someone else. I wont change my style or message to cater to the masses…. or the majority. I fit in with the minority. The people who have not only been to the edge … but know whats over it. But to do that i cant be happy. I look through my stream on flickr or 500px and i can tell you the month and reason and feeling and why that photo was created. When i go back to Oxford, my happy place, my safe place, my home. I never do a shoot or take a picture. I take my camera every time but i cant take a picture i’m too happy and safe…. Im too in awe at being peaceful and calm.  I have to now torture myself with the insecurities i have, the questions and the hurt and suffer i sustained through my last relationship to still create images. For as long as i do that i’m never to move on…..

 

Would i prefer to be a tortured artist or a happy wife/girlfriend with mundane pictures?

Tortured artist every time.  I don’t want to see the world as it is… I want to see it and the other worlds within it. I want to show people they aren’t alone…. everyone can relate to one of my images. When that stops happening i will sell my camera. I have decided however to challenge myself like only i can do….. I am going to do short fifteen second videos too. So now i need to learn how to edit videos. Because for the things i cannot capture in one shot ……. which is rare…. but maybe if i can maybe do video editing maybe it will help me overcome some of my inspirational block. Or maybe i just need to be with the person who breaks me best as thats the only time i feel inspired or alive.