I’ve come to realize that every relationship between two human beings is transient. The only constant I’ve got is me. I stand in the middle of a swirling tide, reaching out to touch hands with passerby. Sometimes the rushing water pulls us apart, fingers grasping and mouths screaming. Sometimes I more quietly let them go, and they drift out to sea as if they were a nymph returning home and I am aiding their journey. Most of the time though, I feel nothing at all. No frantic energy, and no peace either. The only unifying characteristic of all relationships is that they come to an end.
With each “hello,” “goodbye” is also implicit. Everyone you once loved will eventually turn into a stranger. Recognizing these facts has been freeing to me. When I meet someone awful, I know it will soon pass. When I meet someone awesome, I know not to get too worked up about her. And in this way I can attempt to maintain mental balance.
I don’t believe in taking photographs. Very few exist of me; in the last three years I’m only in six that I know of, and I’m not looking at the camera in half of them. Photos try to take something ephemeral and make it static. In the photos of me, I look upon myself as if I am an Other. I have my own memories, so why would I need to rely on a snapshot, especially when the two contradict? In this society, permanence is associated with truth. We say that if it cannot be proved, it might as well have not happened. Perhaps the lack of photographs is due to me trying to will myself out of my own life, or perhaps it stems from a fear of an outsider looking at the images and building an erroneous idea of me and believing he is correct.
Enigma is a state of being like solid, liquid, and gas, but somehow none of them. It has a barely detectable physical presence. It’s not only about moving through the shadows, but also involves moving with the shadows as they grow and shrink throughout the day.
I aspire to be a wisp of smoke.