I often think myself into bad moods when remembering the relationships I’ve had with certain people. What has been, what could’ve been, and what should’ve been. One of my biggest fears is closure; accepting that some things are meant to end but being thankful for the moments that they were alive.

"Dear You," is a photo series inspired by the men in my life who I've shared intimate relationships with.

Having these stand in models sitting in the spotlight, on a pedestal, in their underwear, depicts the vulnerability I’ve felt within each relationship, whether it was romantic, lustful, or platonic. Beside each picture includes the past journal entries I've written about each boy during the time that the relationship was falling apart.

To these men who've broken my heart in different ways all compiled into one emotion: this one's for you.

Dear you, 

You used to make me feel the same way I would when looking at the sky after a sunset: warm and electrified. I tried to show you the hues of pink and cotton candy blues that filled the clouds in hopes that you felt the same. 
Yet you remained grey.

You'd always tell me “I’m not good enough for you”. And for so long I tried to convince you that you were. It’s funny how hard I tried to make you, and myself, believe how good you were for me. But after so long, I got tired of saying the same things over and over again. Doing the same things over and over again with no effect.

It gets tiring trying to convince someone something that isn’t true. Because you were right, you aren't good enough for me. And if you wanted to be, then you would’ve became that person for me.

Time went on. 
Things got better. 
I’d still wake up every morning with the hope of regaining who I was and finally stopped apologizing for not being who you wanted me to be.

Every time “Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby” by Cigarettes After Sex plays while I shuffle the music on my phone, I’ll think of you. 
Not the same way I used to, 
but I’ll still think of you.

It’s so tragically beautiful, to want someone who doesn’t want you. Or even so to love someone who couldn’t care less about you.
But you’ve made me realize it’s not about finding “the one” or making the boy of my dreams fall in love with me, but learning how to be the person of MY dreams.
And I’m so excited to fall in love with myself.

Your absence has made me whole.

Thank you.

Dear you,

You unknowingly played me the song that the boy who broke my heart for the first time had me head over heels for.
Ironic how one small recollection of him didn’t mean much anymore.
It hurt knowing he wasn’t there.
It hurt more knowing the boy sitting in front of me could be the one and he won’t even acknowledge that.

I wasn’t in love with you, but I know I could have been.
If you gave me the chance to.

We vibe like a perfect melody.
That part of an indie rock song when you close your eyes, put your lighters up, and lose track of the world.
The only thing that matters is us.

We were electric.

It’s not fair how amazing we are together.
The undying physical and mental chemistry we share.
It’s a fucking waste for us not to be together, and yet, you remain emotionless.

Why don’t you want this.

I want to fight for you. I want to be with you. But I can’t keep doing this to myself.
A year later and I’m still back where I started: empty and heart broken.
Some things never change, and I guess I’ve learned the hard way that you’re a prime example of that.


Dear you,

I’ve coped with loneliness and emptiness.
I’ve loved and I’ve lost many times in this lifetime.
I’ve found ways to pick up my own pieces and bring them back together into one.
But you made me whole, and broke me in the most tragically beautiful way possible.

I’ve had romantic relationships…lust…the reoccurring heartbreak.
The strongest bond I’ve had was the platonic love I shared with you.

I loved you like no other…

I don’t think you know what you meant to me.
I’m afraid you never will. 

Why did we fall apart.

How it feels to hear you call me “lover”, how it feels to hear you call me “sis”.
How it feels to find a soulmate in your best friend, and lose him that same year~~~~

It’s cold and foggy outside.
The rain’s hitting my window hard as I wait for the sun.
I saw the golden hour in you on the darkest of days.
You were my summer, but summer’s over.
Seasons change, like you and I.
I get chills and remember your glow.
Thank you for the warmth.

I miss you.

Dear you,

There was something soothing about staying up until 3am, listening to old Mac Demarco songs with you, and letting his oddly tuned harmonies get the best of us.
I romanticize sadness way more than I should.
You were my shoulder to cry on who’d kiss away the pain instead of wipe away the tears.
And I’d let you.

My body my choice became your body your choice.
Your body your choice became my body my choice.
It was OUR body. And that’s all it ever will be.

Our arms wrapped around and following the curvature of our body.
In this moment we are one,
but we’re back to separate the minute either of us let’s go.

Don’t talk, just hold me.

Our paths will cross again.
Probably somewhere in-between 11pm-2 in the morning,
when either of us are lonely and send each other a “wy up to?” text.
We were once one.
But will always remain separate.

Until next time.
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