I want people to like me.
I want a photo of mine, ‘staring into the abyss’
I want to pop in their minds, while their working,
While married men are with other women.
I don’t how I’ll affect them but I do.
It must be something to do with the facelessness f the image.
The only issue is, I can’t breathe.
When I look at myself in the mirror, I can’t see.
I look at the saggy face and pulled out hair.
I look at the torso and the tearful hands.
And I seem to drown in my own insecurities.
I can’t breathe.
I want people to admire me.
They come across my photo on a morning walk
And feel the same happiness that I seem to glow.
Happiness through the lens is easier than in the real life.
I want people to turn at look at me, briefly.
Not too long but only me.
The only issue is,
My body won’t fit in a frame.
I should probably hold a cigarette but I can’t seem to breathe.
Still Dear photographer,
I want a photograph.
Something that talks about my good old days, when in reality I had none.
Something has frozen time for me, when it already is.
I want you to fit me in a frame,
On either my hair
Or my eyes
Or my face
Or my lips
Or my body
All I ever wanted was for someone to notice me.
– Painting Stories.