polaroid spectra/spectra soft tone film.
I've gotten to this place through trial and error. A fine balance really, when there are days that seem to be more error than trial.
I've said it before: I'm the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve and with that comes a certain vulnerablity that can sometimes feel like a calling card invitation to feeling bad.
Sometimes, many times, I've brushed my feelings under the rug; unwilling to make my hurt known, even though the truth is revealed on my face, if you take the time to notice.
I talk a good game and I'm really good at talking myself into feeling better, into believing the Pollyanna-isms and that it really isn't personal.
Except what does that even mean? It's not personal...if I take something personally, than of course it's personal, whether that was the intention or not. And truthfully, I believe that we're all just trying to get along in this world and given the opportunity, we're mostly going to watch out for ourselves. Maybe it's human nature, or survival of the fittest.
Or maybe it's how we're hard-wired. Sometimes I think my hard-wiring is an intricate map of gossamer filaments; a tenuous bond that gives way under pressure.
