Photography Day Twenty-One... Stranger Danger.

Um. Today is supposed to be a picture of someone I don't know. I know there is a way to do this artistically and make it look all pretty and shit, but to me it's just creepy and I don't want to look as though I'm stalking someone taking a random photo. So I'm going to go the relative route. When you think about it, how well do you really know someone? You don't. So with that said I decided to take a picture of someone I do "know" but yet is still a mystery all the same...

Jonny passed out. Fucking stoner...

Using a picture of Jonny was the more than obvious way to go for me. We were together for over 2yrs, I've known him since I was 16, and yet there has never been someone to surprise me as much as he has. And not in a good way. Like I said, how well do you really ever know someone?

Betrayal is the only truth that sticks...



My bulletin board of pics throughout the years

 I am addicted to pictures. I am addicted to taking them, posting them, and looking at them. I love having pictures of my family from every special event and even random moments when someone just happened to have a camera.



Jason, Kristen, and Me

 I also hate pictures. I hate looking at the happy moments I had with my family. I hate having to be reminded that everyone was happy once upon a time. I hate seeing all the smiling faces of the loved ones who have long since passed.

I hate having my heart break into a million little pieces because I no longer have family to talk to. I miss them more than they know and more than I'm willing to ever admit.

I was going to post something about this a while ago, but I knew that I shouldn't until my anger subsided to the point of where I could at least control it. A lot of things happened between certain family members and the consequences have been detrimental. I don't miss certain people and I for sure as hell don't miss the people we've all become. But I do miss certain people and the way they used to be.



Me and Dad

 Every night I spend a few hours scanning pictures into my computer so I can upload them onto various picture sites and then save them on my flash drive. Every night I hold back the tears of anger, hurt, pain, and solitude that I feel when I look at all the happy faces. Every night I think of how it used to be and how much I wish it could be again. Every night I pray that I'll wake up the next morning and it will have all been a horrible nightmare.


Every morning I wake up...

...and realize that the nightmare is just beginning.

Few of my Favorite Pictures:

Grandma's backyard...

Me and Ashley at Aunt Connie's...

Me and Jason Christmas '05

Me and Jason in Santa Cruz...

Me and Jason out in the Midwest

Our Tents and Transportation

Proud Great Uncle and Great Auntie holding Jason

Jason building forts...

Day Eleven... (Hatred)

Today's picture is supposed to be of something I hate the most. Well, the thing I hate the most is hate. And love. I was raised to never say hate. Because it's a very strong and hurtful word. That may be true. But what most people don't realize is that in order to hate something/someone, you must love that something/someone also. You can't hate something/someone without having some kind of emotional attatchment. Hate requires passion, just like love does. And that just pisses me off. There is only one person in this world that I absolutely hate with a fiery passion. (There's that word again. Passion.) There are a few people who I have no emotional feelings towards. Those feelings are so far beyond hate, it can't be expressed. Those people have been deemed as worthless in my mind. But I hate hate and love. They are such intense emotions whether good or bad. This may be incredibly cynical of me but i'm just keeping shit real. Don't get me wrong, I love love, but I hate when it breaks your heart into a million little pieces so many times the pieces are too small to pick back up.