regret

theres nothing quite like the feel of it. its almost guilt, shame, twinged with the knowledge that it, whatever it was, was your fault. you made a mistake. no one else, you. you feel loss, loss of what could have come to pass but never will, because of your actions. you put on those heels and stamped on the face of your future, misguided into believing it was the right thing to do. you should have known better.

through walls

muffled, the sound bounces. it travels through the empty chambers of this house, it echoes off family photos and furniture. notes ring out, reverberate off the glasses, the mirrors, the chandelier. they are carried on the air up the staircase and under the door of the room where i sit. the room i have slept in, night after night after night, for the last ten years. in this room, i have grown from a child to the person i am today. the world has changed around me, the passing of time the only constant my life now. i think of the day we first came to this house. us, wide eyed children. them, proud parents. we set upon making this house our own, many long hours spent in the wilderness of the garden, running through grass which was higher than my head. the days passed idly by me then, though too intoxicated by the world was i to realise their passing. they continue to pass now, but now the transition of days means more. it is as if a clock is hung above us, counting down. second by second. day by day. and then we will be splintered.
the melody sad yet lovely, the emotion of it heightened by the slightly out of tune piano and your occasional stumbles. your fingers move fast across the ivory. though not as fast as they once did. i imagine your brow furrowed as the song progresses into deeper, harsher, bellowing notes. they are loud, frenzied, they shake the room around them.

and then,
silence.

No one will read this.

But incase you do, here's what's going down.
Strangers of the world, you asked to read my writing, you asked for a place you could view it instead of searching through the overcrowded scrapbook of Tumblr to find it. So, Strangers, this is what I have created. Especially for you.
This will be a display of my work, as opposed to the interactive journal I jot down pointless thoughts, funny things and beautiful images into. [Tumblr.]

So. I hope you enjoy. More so than my photography, you are going to be seeing further into my brain, my thoughts and my emotions, my fears and my hopes.