How It Feels To Turn Off The Notifications To All Your Social Medias And Hide All Of The Apps On A Separate

how it feels to turn off the notifications to all your social medias and hide all of the apps on a separate page in your phone because for some stupid reason you push away all your friends but you're still in that group chat for that project for that one class.

and its not fair to you.

i hate the people i love?

they're not you.

my heart hurts.

“i feel like i’ve been neglecting you lately,” and do you feel bad? i swear to god, the hardest thing i do is let you live. people grow apart, and thats just how it goes. i love you. i want the best for you. and maybe i’m not what’s best for you. and that’s what hurts. its written all over my face. its in the way i carry myself. its in my voice. my mother knows. she won’t tell me she knows. because i hate to admit that i feel this way.

but i love you. i want the best for you. and maybe i’m not what’s best for you. and that’s what hurts.

you had a pretty bad panic attack on thursday. you ran away on friday. this is how midwest emo songs start, how albums are created for years to come. cmon, “its been three whole years of me thinking about you everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes in passing.” samples from voicemails. things like that.

its okay.

its going to have to be okay.

i will get through this.

i will have to.

artist statement for photos not yet developed:

its cliche to run around taking pics of gravestones. yet i do it anyway. i take pictures of the same things over and over again.

exit signs.

yearning for loved ones.

the balance between processing emotions, grief, and running the other way. grief.

bring your loved ones closer, steal flowers from the neighbor’s, write their name in the prayer book of a god you don’t believe in. because its comforting to think you can help from where you are.

give grandma the memorial bench. its the thought that someone cared enough to, not the money and lavish treatment received. i miss her.

i miss people i never met. yet i feel my mother and father’s grief, i feel the holes in their heart, the weight of my mother’s sobs on the staircase, the night my grandfather passed.

i miss my grandma.

she’d be so proud. i’ll bring her a book. i know she loves me, she’s probably praying for me and doesn’t approve of who i really am.

but her love was infectious. it was strong. she was so proud of everything i did. i wish i had more time. i took her for granted. i still wish i could surprise her with flowers. go out for dinner with her. read her texts.

my heart starts to hurt. exit.