Do you know how horrible it is, living in a crappy never ending ‘depressive episode’ – stupid fuckwit terminology.
Well, it sucks. But what helps is spending how ever long it takes, and granted, it takes a long while, to find some passion again. Not a relationship, because I’ve learnt that it’s best to just not believe anyone who says they love you, but a hobby, a distraction, more importantly.
I’m always taking pictures, yeah but anyone can armed with an iPhone etc, that doesn’t make you a good photographer does it? I can always be found with a camera in my hand, I love it, I really do.
I like having it in my hands. I like being able to concentrate on something different, beautiful things, capturing nice memories to override the big fucker occupying too much space in my head at the moment.
I enjoy people watching, wondering what is happening in their lives, you know? I’m sure people can look at me and even though I document my struggles, disordered eating, purging, destructive behaviours, PTSD, medication etc, (because it helps), to an outsider looking in, I probably looked alright. Well enough to wash and dress properly, a slick of make up and maybe even a pair of tight jeans. So I observe people, and wonder about their lives. What are they facing? What is torturing them internally? We all have our crosses to bare right?
I try and capture it sometimes. Thoughtful looks etc.
Photographs capture an entirely different picture to the one that is told with words.
Its beautiful, in a fleeting way.