Salto Angel

          I am dead in a world blooming with life. My skeleton is amongst a meadow of newborn buds. I am suspended in a realm separate from reality yet still within it. Time slips from my fingertips and I watch opportunity fade with indifference. I no longer care what happens anymore; I have no motivation to alter any part of my life. Not because I'm content with how it is, but because I'm too tired. My perception is hazy and all the substance of my being has dispersed. Anticipation for Paris, the approach of summer, and all the opportunities that exist everyday are not enough to pull me out of this comatose state. 
          I cut off all my hair in the hopes that I would feel something. Each time I brought the scissors to my head, more hair would gather on my bedroom floor. I stared at my reflection as I did it, hoping that I would detect a flinch of fear or a hesitant sigh. It would have been enough to stop me, for it would have proven that I am not utterly devoid of emotion. The sight of my severed locks evoked nothing in me except a feeling of renewal. I realized it was a moment of liberation, for my hair represented everything I had lost in the past week. Now that it was gone, I could focus on more important things like my poetry and art. This year is supposed to be my Renaissance era. Yet I'm still empty. 

Anticipation

          In ten days, I will be off to Paris. Even though my trip is rapidly approaching, it still feels so surreal. I still look at pictures of that magnificent city and long to be there, and then I remind myself that I'll be living that dream soon. I'll be walking on the cobblestone paths, looking up at my dream apartments, eating at bakeries, drinking tea at cafes, struggling to interact with the locals in my broken French, not being able to sleep due to excitement and anticipation, documenting my trip with film. and visiting art museums. I imagine myself never wanting to go back to the apartment my family is renting because there was still so much to see. I imagine myself never even wanting to come home. The town I live in seems utterly insignificant to Paris. 

          My entire life in America feels that way too. I've never belonged to a place; I've lived in so many areas and I've barely had a connection to any of them. I've always been told I looked like I belonged in Paris, that my style was Parisian. I always embraced this and I still do. I can't say for sure, but I feel like I'll discover something incomprehensible in that city.

Ruby Throat

I don't know what to think or say or do anymore. Nobody is telling me anything and I feel numb.

Springtime Adventures

          So many lovely adventures such as listening to Dead Kennedys while driving around Long Beach. I love my friends.

Lasso the Moon

          Immediately when I got back from Idaho, I was re-immersed into the chaos of my life. I've been plagued with so much doubt lately; I'm becoming a different person. This has obviously happened before but never before has it occurred so rapidly. Nothing really significant has happened in my life. Well, things have been changing for the better but I'm still surprised. School has become almost secondary to my social life. I've been hanging out with friends too much and going on lovely adventures with them instead of staying home and slaving over homework. While this has made me a happier person, I feel so hopeless and inept. I feel like I'm incapable of working hard because I'm always so distracted and dreamy whenever I try to be responsible. Last year, my life revolved around school and now it's the opposite. 

          I'll lie in bed and become so anxious that I have to stay home the next day so I can catch up on homework. Every time I tell myself I'm going to start trying hard, I'm seduced by the idea of socializing. I feel weak, pathetic, and like I have no control over my life. Yet at the same time, creativity is spewing effusively from my mind and manifesting itself in my art. I am always smiling and laughing. I'll stay up to midnight doing my homework after spending the entire day in Long Beach amongst the ones I adore the most. I'll spend every night at the lovely local coffee shop and smoke a copious amount of cigarettes. I've been taking so many pictures, writing poetry, and noticing the littlest details about my surroundings. Everything is lovely. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 

(These are the photographs I took in Idaho. They don't even do the immense beauty that was there justice)