Six months.

This past Monday has been six months.

Half a year already.

And I'm still wishing, hoping, and praying that you would just walk through the door like you used to.

I held that camera you gave me randomly some time ago. I liked that you always believed in my passion for photography. I miss that.

I thought about giving up photography because I feel that I'm just not all that great. But I won't because you believed in me.

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I've completely shut myself off this past week. I just haven't felt like talking to anyone. I think the last person who wasn't family I talked to was either Liza or Alex. I just don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to deal with anyone else's problems; I don't even want to deal with my own problems.

I don't know where I'm going, or where I will be in a year or a decade. But I'm 22. I'm getting old.

Sometimes I wish I had just had a normal teenage life. Being fat and ugly and being a right-wing conservative crazy christian just made my teenage years shit. I wonder where I would have been now.

I fucking hate my life.

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I've decided to achieve my master's in England, or somewhere in the UK, but seriously would love London, England.

I need to get moving with photography projects.

Ropa Usada

I have a weird fascination with ropa usada. I have always wondered who they belonged to before and what their life was like. I wonder if their clothes ended up here because they died or because they were cleaning out their closet.

I want to work on a photography project incorporating ropa usada, again, except this time I want to recreate a fictional history for the particular outfit. It could be a crazy story, a fantastical story, a sad story, happy story, boring story, etc.

I need models though. I want people of all ages and sizes and looks.

If you're interested, contact me. If you really want to do this, you'll need to go downtown and dig through the clothes, find an outfit and come to me. I don't care what the outfit looks like. You and I can recreate the history behind the clothing.

I really really really really want to do this. And I want to work on it during the holiday season. Tell your friends, tell your family. Go down town together, buy used clothing.

Please, help me make this work.

I've said it many times

In the past six months, I have said that there has been way too many people dying. I don't know if its part of growing older, or its just random tragedies that have happened to be within months, even weeks of each other.

A girl I knew from my art classes at school passed away on Monday after losing the battle with cancer. Her name was Laura. We talked a few times. I thought she was very sweet, and a great artist. Its such a shame to have a lost someone so talented and amazing. I wish I had gotten to know her better. I wish she would have had more time to establish herself as an artist. I wish her family didn't have to go through what they are going through. I wish her boyfriend, who loved her deeply, wouldn't have to deal with this.

I can't comprehend the mysteries of this life, or the mysteries of God. Why some people die who are full of ambition, talent, and greatness, while others who are just wasting their time still live.

I wish I could understand. I wish I could let go of this anger and resentment. I don't know who I am anymore, or what I believe. I don't know how these tragic events can keep happening.

In my mind I'm hoping that there is some great tragedy coming up from which these people I've known are being spared from.

And even more so, I'm hoping that there is a heaven, and that God would at least be merciful to allow these people I've known entrance into heaven. I hope that the God who lives isn't the God I was told about, who punished all who didn't live like perfect saints. If there's a God, I don't think he's like what I've heard him described, and even if He is, I'll believe that He'll have mercy.