Reinvention

I decided that I can’t leave my Holga photos out of my portfolio, so I’m pushing my photos/poems series further by doing some mixed media pieces. I’ve chosen to use materials and techniques that evoke fragility to reflect a sense of distance and nostalgia. For the first piece, I transfer-printed my photo onto newsprint, and hand-sewed the word “remember?”. I also wrote some random emo stuff very lightly in pencil – they don’t really have a flow or much literary ingenuity, some of it doesn’t make sense, and there are some grammatical errors I think. It’s just something that I wrote before I went to sleep one night.

If you want to know what I wrote in pencil, the transcript is here:

I held my head in my hands and said, oh my god, it was all my fault. I blamed you far too often, yet I didn’t blame you enough. How can loving so much be a mistake? Now, the only time I can say your name is when I’m alone. Your name rolls off my tongue into the darkness, into the air that is my one companion as I wait to see you in my slumber (not intentionally but not ungratefully). I wrote that long letter to you to prove to myself that I could be the one to walk away – this time, the last time. Truth is, I’m still stuck at the same place; again, you were the one who left me after all. Ultimately, when everything has been stripped bare, when sensation has disappeared from my skin, only you are left. The ‘me’ that I’ve built up with each action is a mere distraction from the harsh reality that I’ve given all of myself to you, too much for you to possibly bear. Let me think of it this way, at least one of us no longer carries the burden of the other. Halfway there is all I can manage for now.

Why do I still hope for you to come back to me? You – the almost-lover reduced to the other end of an insincere handshake, those that are meant to say “I wish you all the happiness in the world”. It was the last time we touched, but I couldn’t even look you in the eye; I didn’t want you to see that I didn’t mean it, and I didn’t want to see that you felt nothing.
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One comment

  1. Pingback: You don’t know how much I still want to love you « brainkids

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