Feb 2016
Some things you look back on and it feels like it didn't happen. It all feels like a haze or a dream even though the scarring it's left on your mind is very, very real. I remember seeing his smile, her laugh, the way my friends eyes crinkled in delight when they spoke. The beginning of the summer feels like a haze and sometimes it's all I have to keep me warm when the winter comes.
I as a person don't feel real sometimes. The question if really anything matters at all crosses my mind more frequently than I'd like to admit. Every passing minute turns into a new memory and the future is so uncertain, it's hard to let go of the past and look towards it. When I was a kid I thought I'd have everything figured out by now, you reach adulthood, you get in your own, then you realize how unprepared you actually are. How scary and cruel the world can be no matter who you are. I'm afraid that as I reach the looming hardships of a life on my own, I'll forget what matters, I'll forget how to be happy. Maybe that's why photography means so much to me, these frozen moments in time. Happy days and beautiful things frozen forever so I won't forget. I won't forget the sunsets or the times when things were good between friends.
Memories mean so much in the hardest of times and I find myself in reflection of my past when I'm depressed. Flashbacks of taking him to the hospital. I can hear the clicking of instruments and the color of his hospital gown. The hours spent in a chair next to his bed, the blood in the IV, small details that seem insignificant but stick to my mind like they are covered in glue. I can still hear the raspiness in his voice as he told me he loved me for the first time in that hospital corridor. Fluorescent lights buzzed and reflected in the coolness of his blue eyes and I can still hear the stutters in my reply echo in my head. That is a memory taped to my wall, his disgruntled profile lying in a hospital bed. Memories on clothespins scream of a better time, when everyday was a gentle laugh and not a silent car ride. I can see my lipstick smeared on his cheek as we baked cookies in his kitchen, the smell of cinnamon clinging to our clothes as we lounge with friends in the living room. I carry a photo from that day in my wallet I keep it close to my ID as part of my identity, I won't let these days that meant so much fade away from who I am.
I have files and drawers and boxes and books full of photos, each one a bookmark in my mind of a better time. The brown depths of my best friends eyes in my laptop, the light trail of a man’s cigarette in my drawer, a smile in a box, a laugh in a book, moments trapped forever in film. Memories and stories keep me going, they fuel my drive to survive in the harshest of times. The hope that someday things will be clear and happy again keeps me moving forward with memories tightly clenched in my fists.
But-
Even as memories bring comfort, they can also bring pain. The most sweet of memories can turn into poison when things change. They turn bittersweet and as you reflect on all the sunny mornings spent in his bed, you can feel your heart begin to split and crack. I remember the day he broke my heart, I could hear every word he said but the whole time I had music stuck in my head. The sound of my sobbing and the cracks in his voice accompanied by music, it all felt like a terrible, terrible movie. I remember the snowfall that night when he drove me home and I swear on everything the earth has to offer that my heart was 20 degrees colder. Days pass and turn into weeks and the photos on your wall become like ghosts. Ghosts of a better time, of a sunnier day, and the pain they bring outweighs the assurance they once gave you. Even as they brought you comfort, of hope for the future, you look at those frozen smiles with tired eyes, you look at these pictures of past love and you feel your hands unclench around the memories you once held so tight. It's time to let go of the good times to make room for new ones and the tears you shed as you take down each photo seem to be the most bitter. There is now empty space on your wall, free of painful things, beckoning a new day to fill the void. An empty space free of memories, it gives you peace. Amidst all the pain and uncertainty, a new hope begins.
I as a person don't feel real sometimes. The question if really anything matters at all crosses my mind more frequently than I'd like to admit. Every passing minute turns into a new memory and the future is so uncertain, it's hard to let go of the past and look towards it. When I was a kid I thought I'd have everything figured out by now, you reach adulthood, you get in your own, then you realize how unprepared you actually are. How scary and cruel the world can be no matter who you are. I'm afraid that as I reach the looming hardships of a life on my own, I'll forget what matters, I'll forget how to be happy. Maybe that's why photography means so much to me, these frozen moments in time. Happy days and beautiful things frozen forever so I won't forget. I won't forget the sunsets or the times when things were good between friends.
Memories mean so much in the hardest of times and I find myself in reflection of my past when I'm depressed. Flashbacks of taking him to the hospital. I can hear the clicking of instruments and the color of his hospital gown. The hours spent in a chair next to his bed, the blood in the IV, small details that seem insignificant but stick to my mind like they are covered in glue. I can still hear the raspiness in his voice as he told me he loved me for the first time in that hospital corridor. Fluorescent lights buzzed and reflected in the coolness of his blue eyes and I can still hear the stutters in my reply echo in my head. That is a memory taped to my wall, his disgruntled profile lying in a hospital bed. Memories on clothespins scream of a better time, when everyday was a gentle laugh and not a silent car ride. I can see my lipstick smeared on his cheek as we baked cookies in his kitchen, the smell of cinnamon clinging to our clothes as we lounge with friends in the living room. I carry a photo from that day in my wallet I keep it close to my ID as part of my identity, I won't let these days that meant so much fade away from who I am.
I have files and drawers and boxes and books full of photos, each one a bookmark in my mind of a better time. The brown depths of my best friends eyes in my laptop, the light trail of a man’s cigarette in my drawer, a smile in a box, a laugh in a book, moments trapped forever in film. Memories and stories keep me going, they fuel my drive to survive in the harshest of times. The hope that someday things will be clear and happy again keeps me moving forward with memories tightly clenched in my fists.
But-
Even as memories bring comfort, they can also bring pain. The most sweet of memories can turn into poison when things change. They turn bittersweet and as you reflect on all the sunny mornings spent in his bed, you can feel your heart begin to split and crack. I remember the day he broke my heart, I could hear every word he said but the whole time I had music stuck in my head. The sound of my sobbing and the cracks in his voice accompanied by music, it all felt like a terrible, terrible movie. I remember the snowfall that night when he drove me home and I swear on everything the earth has to offer that my heart was 20 degrees colder. Days pass and turn into weeks and the photos on your wall become like ghosts. Ghosts of a better time, of a sunnier day, and the pain they bring outweighs the assurance they once gave you. Even as they brought you comfort, of hope for the future, you look at those frozen smiles with tired eyes, you look at these pictures of past love and you feel your hands unclench around the memories you once held so tight. It's time to let go of the good times to make room for new ones and the tears you shed as you take down each photo seem to be the most bitter. There is now empty space on your wall, free of painful things, beckoning a new day to fill the void. An empty space free of memories, it gives you peace. Amidst all the pain and uncertainty, a new hope begins.
