I'm not really here and I'm not really with you, but I should be. I'm walking the fairy steps and I'm thinking of the hedonism from the day before, it left its mark in the haze of a hangover. I'm only sharing the bare-bones about the day before while we walk because I don't want to divulge in how wonderful it was. I'm remembering smiles and laughter and looks and I want to live in that moment of vulnerability. I want to live in the space where he looks at me.
I know that I should say something, I'm not so self absorbed that I haven't noticed that you've noticed a change in my demeanour towards you. I'm reminded of a quote from Rules of Attraction by Brett Easton Ellis
I want to write this feeling down, or draw it out, but then I feel like that would make the whole thing seem impure and artificial. I decide it will only cheapen the feeling and so I lay there in the white brightness and think of memories the song brings me.
I want to talk about how I don't want to talk about these feelings. I want to talk about making art from not wanting to share these experiences. I want to have a concrete connection to how you make me feel and I snap out of my thoughts, realising that the photos I've taken are not in focus at all, that even when I'm not with you, you still capture my attention.