Get Over It

I don't get what I want on a daily-basis. But I rarely bitch about it because I'm too busy working for it.

All that must disappear Is but a parable; What lay beyond us, here All is made visible;

Control

Everything is in it's right place when I lift my camera to my eye, and everything seemingly composes itself; my settings dialed in by heart; and I snap the shutter. The unpredictable scenery captured on film, and the decisive moment is played back through my mind. 

I have a hard time accepting life is shitty, and living is reason enough to be sad. I've lived my entire life trying to figure out my sadness, why I have that darkness over me. Trying to justify it all. I'm a hopeless romantic. 

No one means it, but they hurt me. They don't know how deep the pit in my soul goes, it's not like I've ever told them. 

This isn't hitting rock bottom, the whole acknowledging all this sadness and how shitty life can be (and is). This understanding of how much the world can ignore you is my salvation.

Go Slowly

It's weird to know that my Lola's house will be empty. She isn't there, she isn't here. I don't know how to take it, I'm sad, and that's the only way I can acknowledge it, no tears, no shutting the world out, no nothing. Just utter sadness, deep in the pit of my soul. I should have spent more time with her, to hear her voice so little, it's gut wrenching, I want to scream, but I can't. I'm in a state of of inbetweens. Between feelings and actions. regret and remorse. hate and love. loneliness and more. She was a strong woman and lived a beautiful life, constantly surrounded by family. I chose not to be there all those times, other things were more important to me, I was a fool. I will spend the rest of my life making that up to you, Grandma. I'll dedicate my life to you. 

It's definitely Good Friday in heaven, she'll make a heavenly angel

RIP Victoria Demi Ciriacruz, Dec.23 1922 - April 6, 2012