I know I shouldn’t have asked but I needed to know.
I needed to know it wasn’t me. That it was you.
That there was nothing I could have done to sway you into my arms.
It was cringe worthy, for the both of us.
You on your phone, me trying to read the situation.
Denying myself the truth that he, meaning you, are just not that into me.
The one arm hug sealed it.
But I needed to know.
Because I’m in a world where I’m lusted after, confusing it with genuine interest and instantly set aside when they realized, I am not what they expected. Dating someone in a wheelchair is not the ideal, It’s not what you expected.
And in knowing this, I still needed to know.
I anticipated the response but for someone whose been here several times before, I already knew the answer(s):
You weren’t attracted to me enough to see yourself being with me.
And that’s okay.
I’m okay.
Or I’d like to believe I am.
I’ve been trying to accept my vulnerability, knowing the truth isn’t pretty, yet you’ve somehow made me question even if I am.
Isn’t that crazy?
That even though I know good and damn well what I possess: strength, beauty inside and out, that I am still human enough to question it at times?
No one will ever admit that it’s the wheelchair. Because then it makes them look like the asshole.
I’m being as raw as I can in my emotion right now.
Because it is fresh, and sliced so cold. Soooo cold.
Into miniature heartbroken pieces.
To be told you are exotic is to be told my beauty was discovered by someone other than myself.
That I should be on display and admired and seen as an anomaly of sorts.
That I myself am unaware of what I possess.
That I am here for your viewing pleasure, something new to try, just to say you did it, just to mention ‘that one time…’
Here’s to a melanin made of gold, heart bleeding honey, hardening into the soul.
I like odd times like 9:49 at night. When I randomly look at the clock & wonder If in the future, would this time have any significance? Would it be worth remembering? I like odd times like being fresh out the shower, so caught up in your own thoughts that you catch your own gaze in the mirror. Instantly aware. 30 seconds pass of happiness, sadness, guilt, regret & in an instant back to reality. I had forgotten. To feel. And in yet another instant of going against my better judgement I forgot what it felt like to long. For anything other than myself. I don’t feel a thing. It’s both a relief & terrifying. To learn that my solitude has become so much of my sanctuary, that I don’t want you to stay, but rather you leave…
For me, there is a disconnect. I don’t recognize a photo taken of me, as me. But more of an impression. I can take a photograph and look in the mirror and not see the same person. I have no connection to either. And some part of me is curious to see if I can ever truly be captured. I don’t think it’s likely. But in the midst of my self healing, I decided to do a series. They won’t be glamorous. They will be real. Quiet. Still. Contemplative. Confused. Uncomfortable. Seeing myself, my life, who I am, through my own eyes. Like that of an outer body experience.
I absolutely love your photos. I recently bought a camera with the hopes of photographing everything and everyone, but I just...haven't. Your pictures have really inspired me to try. Thank you. :)
Aw that’s awesome thank you! Once you start it’ll become apart of you, almost a second nature impulse for you to capture everything. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do
