I walked forty-seven miles of barbed wire

You're thinking about him again.

Look, it comes and goes. It's like tides, it gets stronger, it goes away.

Bad image.

Why?

Means thought of him is always gonna come back. Tidal. Comes and goes.

Yeah, well...

You're stronger than this.

Maybe I'm not. Maybe he's always going to be there, somewhere, back of my mind.

You're stronger than this.

Maybe I'm not.

You're reading his journal.

Yeah, well...

You don't think that's a bad sign? What the hell does 'disconnection' mean to you, then?

Look, it's not that simple, maybe it never was! I'm just...I'm having to relearn a lot. Breathe a lot. Be calm.

Be gentle with yourself.

Yeah. I'm not used to that.

High time, then.

Yeah...

Don't read his journal anymore.

Yeah, like that's gonna happen...



Working with the concept of making my own backdrops for photography. I'll get the angles down yet, this one's basically just a big open lit box. Came out pretty well, though, with the light attachments.



But yeah...it's all a learning process. Or relearning. Or processing in general. It's going to take time, is all. I'm not used to letting things take time. By and large--not with other people, but with myself--I push, I push hard, try to speed things up in the process...wreck myself on my way to personal health and growth...

...but it's like I have a wound, and it's just started to heal over, and I can't stop scratching it, picking at it, making it bleed again. Even when that's the worst thing I can do. Even when I should just leave it alone.

This one's going to scar. I know that much already...