What a drug you are. I'm sitting here alone looking back at the good and the bad but you, you're soaking through all of it. I know how I was feeling behind the camera in many of these pictures, angry, anxious, unhappy, all of the emotions one would rather forget and you're there to make me remember the smiles of those in frame. Taking photos of everyone leads to an interesting stroll through memory lane. A lot of lovers, a lot of people who I called friends, just a lot of people. I feel a lot of resentment and anger towards some of them yet viewing the moment where I felt nothing but love or happiness makes everything I was going through feel insignificant. Truly it was insignificant, because here I am years later still breathing, still beating. I wish I could talk with them. In reality I could, it would be easy to do, but burned bridges are hard to walk across. Christ if I use one more superfluous metaphor in this stupid little journal entry I'll delete the whole damn thing. I won't, but it's a nice threat.
Anyways.
Friends and family, lovers and those I've hurt, those who hate me and those who would rather never hear my name again. It all blends within your rose tinted hue. Ironic because I was really into editing in yellow tones in most of these. We all look sun sick because I just couldn't leave the white balance alone ha.
I have to wonder how important you are, what you acomplish. I can feel you nagging me to message people I shouldn't, to rebuild those burned bridges. They burned for a reason. But there you are again, telling me they're not burned at all, in fact they stand strong, simply forgotten. That I could easily walk accross them again.
But you're wrong.
I shouldn't. I know better.
Maybe.