Part Theater, Part Therapy

[some of] my photography.

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Sincerely Your Average Person


I was meant to be an admirer,
a fan,
an appreciator.
There’s nothing special about me. 
I’m unable to retain the knowledge required to be “smart” or a “genius.”
I am average when it comes to  brains. 
I am also average looking.
I don’t turn heads when I’m walking down the street. 
I can’t even look at myself in the mirror sometimes. 
I can create beautiful art in my head,
but fail to execute my ideas. 
I am not good with words. 
I am not good with instruments or with people. 
I can never build solid relationships with people. 
A complete introvert wearing an extrovert’s coat. 
All I do well is observe,
Admire the words, the beauty, and the art created by those deemed “special.”

To feel everything and nothing at all at the same time,
what a drag.
What an annoyance.
I just want to shut out the world for a few days. 
Live vicariously through the characters in my favorite films.

I’m tired of having responsibilities,
Of having to wake up at a certain time,
Having to be at  a certain place for a certain amount of hours doing shit i really don’t care to do.
I’m tired of having to take care of this body. 
Eating, showering, grooming, sleeping, running, 
just trying to get by. 
Why can’t I be ignorant to the fact that my existence is pointless.
I know me being here, right here, right now, means nothing at all.
So why do I put up with it?
Why am I still here?

The air feels so cold on my face, 
but it makes me feel like I’m in the right place.
I lean against the wall smoking a cigarette,
waiting to see you.
I look at my surroundings and nothing stands out,
only the moon.

So I wait under the moon for you.

But my waiting is in vain, 
for we are thousands upon thousands of miles apart. 
So I disappear.
I cease to exist.
I fade into the darkness of the night.
And all I can do is wonder where you are.
Wonder if you think about me as much as I obsess over you.
Wonder what your day is like and if you go to bed alone at night.
The smell outside reminds me of our last encounter.
It was a chili January night. 
I don’t know if it’s really you that I am infatuated with or if it’s just the romance that I am caught up in.
You appeared to me when there was nothing else going on in my life,
when I was on the verge of driving into a fucking wall. 
I was alone. 
And now I am alone again,
Staring at the fucking moon, 
Hoping that you’ll just magically appear again tonight. 


The anxiety is suffocating me.
So much Anxiety.
Social anxiety. 
Major anxiety when I’m alone.
Anxious to fall in love.
Anxious to find the right job and the right car. 
Anxiety at work and at home.
Self destructive behavior becomes a product of my anxiety.
Hate “self” on most days, love “self” on a good day. 
I like hate.
But I also like love.
I like paradoxes.
I like opposites.
I just need to sleep.
I just need to kick this anxiety to the curb.


Testing out an old video camera I found today. I’ll be doing video art for a while now.

And I rip my hand from yours…

And I rip my hand from yours…