#entry11

I want you to know these—

You could reach out to me anytime. May it be morning, afternoon, night, midnight, wee hours of the morning, whenever you want.

And I will listen and understand because I want to know about you, anything you want to share with me. Not because I want to be nosy or a know-it-all about your life, but because I want to give you a resting place when you feel tired. I want to be that space you could shout your rage to. I want to be the listening ear even through your murmurs and muffled sound because of tears. I want to be the hand or arms holding you when you crumble from the pain. The shoulder you hide your face into when you cannot take what the world gives you. I want and will try to be anything you need when you turn to me.

And if you ask, I am also ready to give you a different viewpoint, more positivity, an advice, a story, hopefully some peace, and more than I could give.

I hope that whenever you need someone to talk to, you would think of me. And after doing so, I hope that you will think that you did the right thing. I hope that I will not leave you hanging, or more sad, confused or anything, but better. At least feeling better, and more hopeful.

But also know that you could reach out when you are happy because that is one thing I will always wish for you—happiness and peace.

i miss my dad. its like a small background feeling all day. not enough to make me super sad and everything, but enough for me to have moments of deep memory of him. i sucks cause some days i’m fine and others i have a dream of him, then i wake up with him as my first thought, then periodically through the day he pops up. luckily Max is with me. hes patient and caring and hugs me through it all. although sometimes i notice he cant face me when i bring up my dad. i think its because he also misses him. he told me once that hes been wanting to proposed to me pretty much the first year we were together although he never felt like it was the right time or he could provide enough for me. but he told me he felt guilty about not asking sooner. sooner to ask BOTH my parent for my hand, sooner so that my dad could walk me down the aisle and give me to him. he regrets it. not doing it sooner. that information brought me to tears. though i cant say whether it was hurt, sad, hope, glad, i don't know. i mean its nice to know he knew he wanted to keep me from the start but it hurts knowing my dad COULD’VE walked me down the aisle and dance with me and bless our marriage. i know that was one of the biggest things my dad wanted. both for us and for him. i miss my dad so much. i miss him so much. i wish i could call him and talk to him and hear his voice. i love you dad.

Lissyelle -

“DIARY”: Documenting nights out and in around Brooklyn, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Detroit, Montreal and Orlando on a 35mm point and shoot.

It is near and getting harder to fight. I want today to be productive. I think I’m going to have to take another social media break. 

Also, I’m fucking tired of guys only wanting me sexually. I’d rather be alone. I don’t want to keep repeating the cycle where I place myself into positions that make me low value.

The image I chose was a piece of art created by Helen Devenish. It shows a pair of hands, surrounded by a blinding light, and with broken shackles around the wrists. While its intention is to be religious, even without that knowledge, it gives off a sort of spiritual vibe. The beams of life, hands raised to the sky, powerful and simple in its own way. There are certainly layers. One can argue that the shackle represent being a slave to humanity, one that is freed by the saving grace of the (most likely Christian) Lord. While definitely not applicable to everyone, with Christianity being the world’s most known and subscribed to religion, it makes sense that such an image would not be vague, but be more guiding to that religion’s image of God. Formally, religion is formal. Culturally and historically, religion is that too. In fact, religion has been there for every moment in history, no matter where one is or what religion it is, it can be found. And with this image, the power of religion is literally breaking the shackles, maybe the shackles of humanity, or maybe it has another unknown meaning. Maybe the shackles of sin. Regardless, it is a powerful image that is grounded it its ability to be interpreted in many different ways.

The Tragedy of the Commons

Ashy air fills my full-grown lungs while

sound of footsteps reminds me of 

hourglass, reflections of the invisible

time, hour, minute, second, no

time, just your sin, yours, not

mine.

Three hundred eighty-five steps bring me

closer to school, closer to a

degree that should have taught me

how to breathe without guilt.

But no matter where I walk, 

grey clouds hover over my presence of

constant anxiety desperate to go back

home, now empty space filled without