What will you say, when this thing between us has come to an end?
When they ask what I was to you, will you choke on the word friend?
Self-portrait
Nostos
It felt like she was never here to stay, temporary in the way a sunset slips beneath the skyline. She always had one foot out the door, always glancing over my shoulder, watching, waiting for her cue to leave. She moved like she had an itch, shifting back and forth like there was a pebble in her shoes.
It took me a while to realize she was the pebble. She was the one out of place, restless and eager and itching for something she thought she almost had once. She couldn’t name it, but she knew it was out there somewhere. And maybe that’s why it hurt when she looked at me. Maybe that’s why it hurt her to look at anyone she loved, why it was hard for her to look in mirrors.
Whatever it was she was searching for, none of us could give it to her. There wasn’t a damn thing any of us could do to fulfill her, nothing we could say to make her stay. She was just passing through- a shooting star I poured my wishes into knowing that they wouldn’t come true.
Photography by Abigail Saturday
Visitor
I’ve been dealing with depression for so long now that it feels like getting coffee with an old friend. Every now and then we get together and talk. I see why she feels the way she does and where she’s coming from. And then I send her on her way, telling her that she can visit but she cannot come to stay.
Self-portrait
Determined
All that I wanted were things only hungry hands could claim- rebuilding myself on the ashes of bravado and a fragmented name.
Photography by Scott Rust
Wonderland
"What's a Wonderland? And how do I find it?" She gazed up at me with big, bright eyes so full of hope I almost felt compelled to spare her the truth. But such a disservice would have made me no better than my parents or their parents before them.
So I set aside my homemade hat and offered her my most earnest eyes. "Wonderland has no address, my child, but don't for a moment believe it is not real. It is as elusive as a cotton tail and as mad as a Cheshire cat's smile. It's a fantasy in your head and as solid as the ground beneath your feet. It's magic and adventure just waiting for those brave enough to seize it. The real question is: '"What's an Alice? And how do I become one?"'
Photography by Abigail Saturday
Bluster
She didn’t come in phases like the moon or the tide. There was no rhythm to her, no rhyme or reason. She blustered into my life like the wind, sudden and sweet and something I never saw coming.
Photography by Abigail Saturday
Hunger
I had set rules for a game I hadn't yet played, and now that I am here, I find I am not who I thought I was. All the lines I had set in stone have turned to smoke, and I find myself hungry for fire.
Photography by Boris Mirkin
Companionship
Without my permission, the days I didn’t see you began to feel like obligations, like time apart was something I had to tolerate before I could see your face again. And I think that’s what love is, when being near someone makes you feel alive, and without them you’re merely existing.
Photography by Abigail Saturday
Weary
In the end, I was tired. Tired of putting myself second, of getting less than I craved. Tired of wasting my breath, of convincing you that I was worth the risk. I was tired of wondering what it was that you wanted and why I wasn’t enough.
Photography by Scott Rust
Landmines
You and I would never be strangers. Instead, we will be landmines, ready to blow if we get too close.
Self-portrait