Personal Essays
almost rainy, and missing you
I feel homesick for me.
I want to return to an earlier day, a day before that some misstep that I can’t seem to identify. My memories radiate out as though I'm in the center of a great labyrinth… standing there with enough hope for tomorrow but with certain regrets for past misgivings. It seems impenetrable, but I arrived here somehow.
After I left graduate school (dropped out!), I stopped writing. That moment – driving away from South Bend – felt empty and harried. It was a great defeat for me, because I turned my back on the only goal for which I had ever planned. The words stopped coming for me.
I miss me as I’ve not missed anyone before, and there were a few heartbreaks. I miss the person who had so much rebellion and so much desire to aspire. Without words, I turned to photography, because through it I saw a glimpse of my old self and with it I could show people how I felt inside.
I want to return to an earlier day, a day before that some misstep that I can’t seem to identify. My memories radiate out as though I'm in the center of a great labyrinth… standing there with enough hope for tomorrow but with certain regrets for past misgivings. It seems impenetrable, but I arrived here somehow.
After I left graduate school (dropped out!), I stopped writing. That moment – driving away from South Bend – felt empty and harried. It was a great defeat for me, because I turned my back on the only goal for which I had ever planned. The words stopped coming for me.
I miss me as I’ve not missed anyone before, and there were a few heartbreaks. I miss the person who had so much rebellion and so much desire to aspire. Without words, I turned to photography, because through it I saw a glimpse of my old self and with it I could show people how I felt inside.