I know I am not alone in this, but I often find myself feeling self-conscious over who I am and how others portray me. It’s so easy to compare ourselves to others based of what we see on the internet. Social media has opened up the world of communication and having the ability to connect on a new level by seeing how others live, but at the same time it has also opened up a whole new level of self-hatred for our generation. Constantly judging ourselves because we see others our age living out our dreams, whether its traveling the world or driving fancy cars or even having these “fairy tale” relationships. In the back of our heads, we all know its not as perfect as its made out to be, cause we are ALL guilty of creating this online persona, yet it’s still hard to remember when we only see the best parts of others lives. I try my best to be as real and raw as I can on the internet, yet while living in California I would get messages constantly saying how fun my life looked and how I must be living the dream. What those people didn’t see was, I spent 5 to 6 days a week working, half the time on my days off I was too exhausted to want to go out and do things, even if it was simply grabbing coffee with a friend. They didn’t see me breaking down from the stress, the nights where I couldn’t sleep because of the uncertainty of everything, or the weeks where I had to pick either putting gas in my car to get to and from work or having food to eat. Yes, San Diego was an amazing experience, every part of it. I learned so much in my short two years there, the good and the bad shaped me into a stronger person than I was before, but as I said, it was not easy. Regardless that I am aware these young photographers only show the best shots and the fun parts of their trips, it doesn’t stop me from questioning myself and doubting that I’ll ever be able to make my dreams come true. My point being is, I often forget my work is for me. My poems do not have to be long and pleasing to the reader nor do I need to make it full of imagery. It does not have to be complex, it can be simple. 3 words or 300, it doesn’t matter. The shots I capture from my adventures are there for me, to be able to relive those moments and share with others the world from my point of view. Even this blog, I started it solely because I am so full of passion for writing and photography I wanted to have a space of my own where I could share it all. Its mine…my feelings, my thoughts, my words. No one else’s. I need to learn how to love my work and my feelings, for they make me who I am. So here I am taking that leap, I should be proud of what I am doing, because I am doing it for ME, not for others.
I have been writing poetry since grade school, yet I can count on one hand how many times I have let someone read any of it. My poetry has always been the most unfiltered, darkest part of my being. Typically, its full of heartache and my troubles, being a semi-reserved person I tend to shield myself from others when it comes to my emotions. So letting someone read and judge my poetry always seemed far too scary for me, but I am ready to start sharing it, regardless of how nervous it makes me. Cause as I stated, this is for me and what others think of it will not take away how I feel.
I wrote this poem in February of 2014, this will be the second time ever sharing it. The title is Ink Stained Hands.
ink stained hands
that’s all I am these days
my thoughts painted across my arms and legs in bright red
hollow with a tired heart beat
bones poking through like some great masterpiece
gently wilting away like the spring flowers
the color has drained from me
all that’s left is the jaundice creeping up from my toes reminding me to eat
try to wash down these feelings instead they come pouring out of me
eyes lay heavy
the vast emptiness has swallowed my insides whole
these words hold more weight than my own being
day fades to night
and the darkness consumes what is left of who I once was