ryan taylor

There is no theme or purpose to this account. I know people are here for liminal spaces and dead malls. I know that no one wants to see black and white photos or sunsets with stupid depressing captions.

This is the only place I can disappear anymore and the only place I can express myself. The disconnect and detachment have become so overwhelming that I simply do not relate to people on any level.

The pain that was once sharp is now an ache. It’s static, a background noise, one that’s left me unable to hear things or feel things.

By the time I realized what had happened to me, I had already lost myself; and I’m not even certain I ever was “myself” or if that was just an idealistic image I created in my head.

Lately I feel it’s the latter; I notice things I didn’t use to notice. The rose tinted glasses I viewed life through did not allow me to see how shallow and meaningless I had become, or how vague my identity had been.

This photo was taken by a friend.

We don’t know each other that well. There isn’t much to know about me though, and I suppose she knows me as well as anyone ever has.

In this vacant life I live, I know the place people hold in my mind will never be mirrored in theirs.

These fleeting moments are all I’ve ever had, and they’re the only place I exist.