rationally, i was sorta glad i got dumped like fumbling fool that i am. I mean really how long was i suppose to be going out with a young gorgeous photographer that spoke polish like it was french and not let that pang of insecurity stab me while i was pretending that it’s all normal. any sense of security is ultimately a false sense of it so i had to acknowledge it and be friends with it. normally, 8 months with someone is not really a long time by any stretch but it did feel like a long time only because the extremes levels of interaction.
when you breathe, eat and sleep with photography, it fucks with your mind. the boundary become so blurry that my different personas begin to step on each other’s toe. in hindsight, i probabaly did everything wrong in terms of trying to have a balance life between work, play and relationship. it was all roll up into one big fuzzy ball of photography that suffocated the both of us. certainly no regrets as it was but i question my own level of maturity. no doubt, my heart overcame my wisdom. it’s not such a bad thing but it only saddens me over so to know that it’s demise is not because we’re so incompatabiltie. we destory the relationship for the wrong reasons. on the other hand, the shallow reasons that cause the demise is a reflection of depth. which is worse? to find that the shallowness of the supposed depth or to fear the depths of our shallowness? that’s right, both are eqaully ugly and that is why being let of the hook is so painful.