Once…And Many More
I opened the back door and to my surprise, my mother was home. I let out a deep sigh and rubbed my eyes, making sure I was really awake. I then dragged myself to my room and opened the familiar computer file and my fingers began to tap the keyboard rhythmically, letting the thoughts I had been avoiding for months to slowly spit out.
Dear Diary,
I’m sorry I haven’t been writing to you and sending you letters. I’m alright…I’ve been feeling worse…but I don’t think you’d want to know why.
I let out a groan. I told myself, don’t sugar coat it! Stop being ignorant! It’s time to admit what really happened!
Another day, I typed. Just another day, no different than any other. But one day…what a difference. The one day that I could recall so vividly, yet it feels so long ago. I swear! It was just once. There were so many people I admired, so many people I wanted to be with and I was finally with them. It was too much, I wasn’t comfortable. I needed something dramatic. I kept dwelling on that terrible thought, oh no, I hate talking about it. Down one. Down two. They were cheering me on. Down three. Down four. I had hesitated. Why did I continue? Down five. Down six. I didn’t want to believe it. I’m sick of blaming others in my mind. I can’t ignore what I did. It just happened, it just went with the wind, and I was in this blinding maddening shroud. I thought about it before I did it. I thought about it afterwards. But when I did it, I wasn’t thinking at all. I was just enjoying the moment. That moment just didn’t last as long as I wanted it to.
I paused and thought of how I dealt with my embarrassment. I was stuck at home with guilt pouring on my shoulders, with shame stuck to my name, stuck with the same routine. But no one was making me stay home. I was. I needed to. I wanted to. I was having nightmares. Re-living that experience. Thinking of my future. Thinking of why I’ve been so foolish.
I re-read that again. No, no, I thought. I hit the backspace key a couple times and stared at the screen. I felt ashamed to be thinking of what to say in my diary. Clearly, I wasn’t comfortable opening myself up anymore, even though months had passed. I didn’t know myself anymore. How was I ever capable of doing this? Without thinking of the limitations of life, I advanced to the other side.
I blew it. I was so certain it’d blow on forever.
I was deep down in the dumps so I left, I wrote.
I thought by doing so I could start clean and fresh. I thought it was a new era in my life.
But I was wrong about that. Physically leaving my past didn’t keep me from dwelling on it. I got too excited, too fast.
I remembered my mistakes and it put a kibosh on the party. I came to my senses, looked down once again and saw the future in front of me and the party died instantly…I didn’t expect my world to literally turn upside down.
Oh well. Unless I can attach myself to the past, it will haunt me forever.
Life never gave me a contract. I never signed up for multiple challenges, but that’s what’s happening. I’ll never be who I was.

 

My artist statement

 We all experience the power of words and more or less, actions, so I decided to bring out the extreme in the power of our actions. It is common, emphasized in health class and the general education system and overlooked. I wanted to give the reader a hint what the girl might be going through. I intended to choose something common so that it was easy to relate to, while breaking it down and making it seem like a big deal. I wanted to open up a different perspective. I wanted people to see how the affected person feels and behaves.

 

 

 

 

 

My Photonarrative

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