How Can a Photograph Capture the Image of a Person Falling Apart?

I stared at the black and white photograph, “Is this how unhappy I look like?” I hadn’t realized it before. I was never beautiful, but looking at this picture.. This is not me. This can’t be me. This is far from the remark of “Oh. I look so ugly”

I took the photograph, studied a bit more closely. Is this how people see me? Since when did I look this empty?

Day by day, for years, I’ve watched confidence fade away. I’ve cut my hair short. I’ve given up on any pity attempt to look pretty. I neglected myself for a very long time. I look so dull and wasted, tired and drained. This hopeless face can never be covered up. This depressing, decaying body cannot be dressed up. Look a little more closely, you’ll cringe. You’ll cringe at the person beneath this veneer body.

Hate reflects. I didn’t know it reflects. People can actually see through me. How can I not know? I’ve been hiding all of this. I’ve been hiding. I’ve been hiding all this time.

How can a decent photograph capture the image of a person falling apart?

How farther can I descent?

What will I look like next year?

Where will shame and insecurities lead me to?

Is this photograph my cry for help?

Look at what you’ve done.

What have you done to yourself?


“When you photograph people in color, you photograph their clothes. But when you photograph people in Black and white, you photograph their souls!”― Ted Grant

photograph-blog-2
Actual photograph

The photograph was taken by our Photojournalism professor. It will be shown at our university’s photo exhibit next week. It is a black and white portrait of me. I have seen the photograph just a few minutes before writing this. It is like meeting my self for the very first time. A revelation of how I’ve let myself down. A potential wake-up call to pull myself up.

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Rage and Hibernation

I can’t believe someone could be that colorless. You’re right. I’d use the word pale. But that seems like an understatement. When you see her, you might as well grab a TV remote and ramp up the color intensity. Yes, that girl. Have you noticed how her skin glows? No, not that kind of glow. Her skin is so white, it glows.  You know why we don’t see her that much? We don’t see her around that much. Yes, so I’ve heard. Did you see the slashes on her wrist? I can’t take it off my mind. The scars are even paler than her skinny wrists. It’s not a good sight. Do you know why we don’t see her that much? Well, seems like I know something you don’t know.

So listen closely. I’ve met her old friend, Anna. They were pretty close. Yes. Were. But I’ve got to warn you, this Anna is crazy. There is definitely wrong with her, but she’s fun to talk to. And when she talks, I can’t seem to look away from her.. nose ring. Don’t laugh at me. You won’t help it. It’s gleaming. And her eyes.. her eyes are hypnotic. Oh, right! Anna. I was talking to her when she passed by. Anna just stared at her old friend. “She should’ve just killed herself.” Yes, that’s what Anna said. “She’s walking around dragging everyone down, she’s painful to watch. She knows it herself, so she kept herself away, locked up in her house. Not getting out, until she’s better.” She even added.

Do you know what happened to her? She’s once filled with confidence. Almost proud. Her mom, is as kind as any moms get  but she can’t control her daughter. They always argue. The way she talks to her mom, she’s going to be wait-listed in hell. She’s having problems with her rage back then. By the time she wakes up, she feels so angry to no particular person, no particular reason. Anger just fills her up. Her mom is still so kind to her that anger is often mixed with guilt. It is driving her even more crazy.

One night, when she’s having her usual argument with her mom,some misunderstanding. Anna was there, hanging out upstairs, inside her old friend’s room. She can hear her friend from the dining room. The argument went into halt. This girl, she walked up the stairs, stomping at every step, screaming on top of her lungs. She was so mad, she went straight to her bathroom. She didn’t bother looking at her friend waiting for her. She went straight to the bathroom door and slammed it. A few moments have passed and all there is is silence. Anna couldn’t take the ringing peace, and decided to check on her old friend. There, sitting on the floor, her right wrist were slashed, multiple times. Like she never stopped slashing it until she calmed down. Anna called 911. She thought her friend died during her watch.

She didn’t tell me how she felt, if she’s shocked or.. She just told the story like it is something factual, you know? I don’t know how she managed to tell the tale with a hollowed voice. She knew her friend had died. I think, Anna kind of did, too. They never talked after that night.

Blogging Buzz and Bus Tales

Do you still remember the very first week when you had your blog?

It’s already 6 o’clock in the morning and my head is still buzzing with things I could talk about, the things I want to talk about, all the blogs I have to read, and the widgets I need to customize! I cannot believe it, I’ve never  felt this enthusiasm for a long time.

I just wanted to pinch in a little background. Before creating this blog, I deactivated all of my social media accounts, (Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, you name it) the reason behind this, you can see Breaking Free From Facebook Anxiety. I also gave up on having a smart phone. Everyday, I ride a 2 – 3 hr bus drive to my university. I live in the province (suburbs, as you call it), and my university is in the city. I don’t know why. I look really discreet; a typical sleep-deprived student with nothing but lunch money, but seems like pick-pockets are always on me. I’ve already lost three phones! In a span of six months, I’ve lost three smart phones. Now, that’s not pretty smart! We are not that well-off, so after losing the third one, I decided not to buy another one. Not until I have the right job, and can actually afford it. For a little experiment, I told myself, why not try to live like in the 90’s, no phones, no interruptions –  and no pick-pockets! I am living peacefully since then. I get to see the people I needed to see, they can talk to me when they really need to talk to me.

Going back to blogging buzz…

Do you still remember how you started here? The things you frequently talked about? How did blogging help you, since then?

Share your stories! With tired eyes, I’d love to read about them!