I could stare at this for hours.
Sky Series by Eric Cahan
New York-based photographer Eric Cahan captures long, vertical shots of beautifully multihued horizons in his ongoing work entitled Sky Series. This project, at its core, is an exploration of light, space, and memory. By capturing a wide array of colors in different skylines, Cahan is reflecting on the power of light in different settings.
(Source: bitchville)
the warmest of welcomes…
(Source: corwinprescott)
We’ll meet again when both our cars collide.
It seems as though I’ve gone from tumblr for quite a while. I felt like maybe blogging might make me feel a little better, or at least be a place to vent…
I’m missing my mom terribly. Like, it makes me crazy that really nobody understands, even those who have already lost a parent. My relationship with my mom was special. Each woman feels differently about their own mother, so really, nobody can ever know exactly how I feel…
Honestly, the most overwhelming feeling is devastation, and abandonment, and loneliness (even in a crowded room or with friends). People don’t understand why I never want alone time, or why I freak out when someone leaves. It sucks. I can’t physically bring myself to stop thinking about how much I miss my mom. My life was fully consumed with her, her illness, everything. Everywhere I look it’s a reminder that I won’t be able to talk to her.
I’ve visited Mom’s grave twice since she passed. I think that’s the part that kills me the most. I look at this pile of dirt and that’s my mom in there. I know she’s in Heaven, and she’s better off, but it’s hard to always have that in the back of my mind when I’m here. I just want to talk to her, call her, tell her how my day was, kiss her, hug her, make her dinner, anything. I’d do anything to have some form of contact with her. It’s so upsetting.
I know my feelings about my mother’s death are affecting my mood. I know I freak out on friends and loved ones, and I feel bad, but I can’t make anyone understand what’s going on in my brain. I just have this huge void in my life and it needs to be filled. I just need love from someone and companionship. I feel like nobody could ever love me like my mom did. It’s just so unfair…
I’d kind of rather be with you right now.
I need a new tattoo.
Not too shabby :)
Letter to You…
I want to tell you how I really feel, yet I refrain. I feel as though venting is my only option, and although you will never see this, I will feel better to have gotten it off my chest. So, here goes nothing…
Dear You,
It’s been quite some time now; it actually feels like I’ve known you forever. I care for you more than words hold the ability to express. I only wish you cared as much for me, or even for yourself, rather. You have the potential to achieve your dreams, to better your life, to be the man you’ve always dreamed of being. Yet, you succomb to your wordly desires, and I’m worried for you.
The calls only come when you’re inebriated. I’m sick of it. I hold no desire to hear your drunken slur, to be a part of this shipwreck you’ve found yourself surrouned by. I want nothing but the best for you, but you have to also want that for yourself. Sadly, you don’t. I wish I could be a part of your recovery. I can’t, though, and I won’t. I don’t know if it will even happen.
Through the aggravation I’ll always be here. You know this and I as well. The phone will ring, and hesitantly I will answer. That’s just who I am. I hope you become well, and I hope I’m around to see it, but for now I must disappear. Best of luck. You’re going to need it.
Love always,
Ashley
My hands are trembling, and my eyes are on fire.
I am in a funk. It’s explainable, but unexplainable at the same time. All signs point to my most recent ex being in town as a huge factor. Secondly, weight loss is really messing with me. Stress, of course. Mom is sick. It’s like everything at once. I have no outlet. I work, and that’s about all I do everyday. I am going to make some awesome crafts tomorrow, so that might help, but still… I’m really out of sorts. I feel depressed, and that’s so unlike me.
I don’t understand, honestly, why losing weight is having such a negative impact on me. I feel like I’m in this weird identity crisis. I’m happy that I’m losing weight and seeing results, but it’s making me so depressed. My clothes are big, and I feel like I look just as horrible in them as I did before I started losing weight. Everyone is starting to notice, and I like that too, but for some reason, my mind won’t let me be at ease with it. It makes no sense. Someone please explain this to me.
