Some things will always haunt you.
No matter where you run, no matter how tight you close your eyes. The pain throbs on…
This is one of my first summers I am doing what I love. Photography.
I feel its a brilliant mix of social work and art, the creative side of me and the helping, healing, people pleasing side. I really love it and I hope to give people pictures they love too.
But summer always brings memories. Some good, some bad. Many troubled. In my adolescence I feel I made myself love summer at camp. But looking back I sort of hated it. I of course may be remembering all the bad parts. The tears, the inside pain, the mean boys and girls. I think however, I was considered “popular,” but now all I remember is confusion which leads me to regret my time there. I had love. I had secret love. I had shame. I undoubtedly grew in my time there…but at what cost? I made friends who are like sisters and brothers to me..but I also created scabs and wounds which are sensitive to the touch.
Who would I be without the 10 summers I spent there?
I try not to look into the past but sometimes it comes to haunt us. Because in all honesty our past is who we are. Our roots..