The Quiet

If anyone should happen to stumble upon the pathetic digitally crafted film pieces I dump at that site called flickr, they would notice that a number of them are done in variations of black and white.

I've been going through a medley of emotions as of late. But my words have run dry, I cannot seem to articulate these emotions as easily as I would have two years ago, when words poured out of me in torrents and it seemed like my head just could not hold everything in, lest it took hold of my fragile self and broke everything inside.

But now that I am more sure of myself and who I am, I fail to come up with proper descriptions of how I'm feeling. It just doesn't come. I part my lips and not a sound do I make.

This is where the black and whites come in. I feel, in their complementing, contrasting shades, two almost-colours, they describe the emotion in a photo perfectly. The colours in the frame just end up coming across confused and chaotic, for instance in a photo where I am trying to portray a frustration of sorts. But once I convert it into a monochrome, everything just stands still but for one single stray emotion that was left inside, screaming to be noticed.

See me as I am. Don't let the colours tell you lies.

Here We Go Again

Tired as I am, there is a need to keep on doing this.
I never want to lose the ability to see.
And even though that day is medically inevitable, I'm going to fool myself into thinking it will never come.