truthfully, ultimately

even love has limits.

bones

i told miki and lauren that which i was going to tell noone. i do trust them. but now it's real
i wonder what'll happen next

you make me

ill, sick
what way out is there? this feels too perverse to ever want to let go of me. i might have to tell him how i want to do things right

nothing lasts forever

creativity

photography and art are very different things and require very different skill. for my part mostly i've indulged in photography over time, i'm not quite sure why, i do have a certain eye for things and a compelling desire to capture it but that's no excuse for not finding room for more in hand art forms.

i have an itching in my fingers to create now, and not to limit myself to one medium either.

each creation by an artist, not a photographer, being fictitious then creates a fictitious world of which we can only see through a pinhole; that pinhole being the finished art piece.

aspiring to create is not enough, hopefully this will be the start of a very long unlimited stretch of motivation for me

misery loves company

it's as if all the bothers and pains of the mundane reality are ineffective at getting through to me, i recognise them but cannot read them through the content of my insides being too vast