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Hey! Today I would like to share a couple of pictures from my Zenit 11 and some thoughts I have. This post might be really messy and more sad than 2017-me would ever share again, but HERE I AM, feeling down a bit and having no one to talk to about it.
I remember my previous blogs filled with depressing posts and I always promise myself to stop posting sad things, but somehow I can’t help myself and now I am writing a sad post YAY. Every post was “deep” and thoughtful, had perfect sense for me – I just complicated it and messed around with words, creating some space for my reader to think about something, reflect, interpret in their own way. I was avoiding straightforwardness (?) because I didn’t wanted to be understood what the heck am I writing and going through. So I think this one might be something like that, I don’t know.

I don’t even know how to start, it’s been a while since I wrote a sad-blog-post or even described to someone the way I feel. The way I sad-feel. I am losing the ability to share negative things outside of me and I just shut everything down in myself. And I just feel so tired and drained having that inside of me. I feel spaced out from reality, fake to my surroundings and myself. I feel like I’ve been awake for 4 days and now I just can’t talk and function normally. My mind wanders somewhere and I genuinely think I’ve gone mad and not really sure whether I will see things like normal ever again. I still go to work, “do” and plan a lot yet I’m just somewhere… not really here. I am heartbroken, lonely and left alone with that crap, no one seems to care and willing to help. Pathetic. Today, for example, I went to scan my analog camera pictures, I had 36 in total in that B&W film and where were only 29 of them – 7 other were empty. I was so happy because it used to be more of those empty spaces in film, and now ONLY 7! I rushed home though wind and snow being more than hyped to finally see my 3 months in 29 analog pictures and oh my how disappointed I was. All pictures are so bad. Only 5 are worth showing or just.. being scanned. Other ones are just blurry, too bright, too dark. Let me show You.
ggggg

as I insert pictures here now in collages I don’t think these are too bad:? but still, it made me question my ability of holding camera, trying, sincerely loving what I do and it gave me thoughts of giving up on taking pictures. I feel bad for buying another, colored, film. And analog camera, in general. That’s just a waste of money and I feel truly bad and failed here.

Moving on what else I wanted to say is that I don’t actually remember staring at the mirror and thinking how ugly and fat and a waste of space am I. But here I am. And I don’t know why, maybe other people influence me, and my other friends calling themselves fat made me look at myself with disgust because now I have no one to stop me from doing this, not even unconsciously. I look at myself thinking how bad my skin looks, how dry it is there, and how oily here, my nails break, hands dry, how much food I eat, how less I sleep and how bad I dress. How shallow I became and how sad is it to watch me being someone else, losing ability to think deeper, special and look at things from perspective.
On top of everything I feel so broken and that probably we can count as one of the things that made me feel worse about myself, my looks. I feel kind of disgusted with myself. With myself being so stupidly naive. So naive I even believed I could be loved – which I never probably was. That’s pathetic. I was okay carrying my broken heart everywhere until a couple of days ago when I heard one -that-thing-. And I was okay knowing it until I over thought and came into conclusion, that I was never actually loved. Just. I was just there. Probably filling an empty space of other. Being just there while being someone else in their imagination. And I really can’t I don’t want to believe it. I fight myself with that though. It’s just.. unbelievable. Oh God. That can’t be true. No. How. What the f

—— regardless I would like to give myself some credit. For sharing this, in the first place. I still learn to love myself and the way my soul mourns and weeps about things. How strong am I, dealing with all the breakdowns I have, standing strong after so many confrontations. There’s a wonderful and positive side of this which I can’t see right now but I will look forward of getting there.  Of being there and not dwelling and begging my past to stay. I hope the sorrow I feel will be produced into something beautiful or just better than feeling itself. And for now I have to mourn, cry, weep and process. Yeah, good old processing. I’ve been doing that a lot lately (and not so).

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yowita

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