These are the Days of a Gun.

What's left?
Who's left to give to?
I'm not worried
about my
payment.
I'm worried
about my
sleepless nights that never seem to
let up.

I touched you on your shoulder
You touched me on my face.
I reached for your hand...
And you moved across the state.

What the hell gives.

Will this come back someday?
All this that I've given up?
Or will I sit here stagnant,
Queen Bee
Pushing out children to give away
and dying fat and candy striped.
But never appreciated.
Appreciated, but never loved.
Loved, but never understood.
Understood, but never appreciated.

I'm trying not to forget myself.

Less than perfect.

I have this distinct feeling that the people closest to me don't believe in me. It's not that I feel like they want me to fail - I just don't think that they actually believe I'm good at this whole "photography" thing. My little sister is still taking crappy pictures of herself in the mirror, at least three of my friends are models and none have asked me to take pictures for them, and I feel like my family is just kind of patting me on the head until I drop this idea and move on to the next "passion."

Maybe they're right? Maybe they see this is a phase and I don't? I don't know.

I just wish I had any confidence at all.

Like, other than from myself. I believe this is good, but it's hard when you're ignored by everyone around you.

Whatever.

Fuck this.