MY GATE OF FEAR .

I crossed through the gate of fear

and I was welcomed by the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.

The kind of eyes that tell you they could love you.

and the kind of eyes that tell you they may deceive you.

I sat in front of them and all i wanted to do was to count your eyelashes.

All I wanted was to see through them.

and I think I did.

I crossed through the gate of fear.

The one I built for myself.

and I didn't stumble.

 I saw you.

and my heart wondered if love lies on your bare skin.

or in your eyes.

or in every single one of your eyelashes.

The same ones that I want to count.

but it also wondered if it would see itself broken on your bare hands.

the same hands that I want to touch.

and the same skin that I want to melt into mine.

I crossed through my gate of fear.

and I realize it didn't give me a yes or a no answer.

or a "love" or "heartbreak" answer.

but it gave me you.

and it is with you that I'll find the answer.

-M

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This is the last day of the year and I'm supposed to do a post about what happened in 2014 but I haven't figured it out yet so I guess that will wait until the first days of January. I hope. So instead I'm sharing a recent self portrait and some words I wrote a few months back. And to be honest, one of my favorites.

If you are wondering about what I wrote...Yes, I think I found my answer. 

Whatever that means.

Tiny Ocean

The other day I went to the sea and walked along the shore

with the attempt to forget about a few things

but all the ocean did was to remind me of you.

That day the ocean gave me colors

and it gave me air

and beauty.

I walked and I couldn't help but think that those colors didn't match your eyes.

but it was beautiful

I couldn't help thinking that there was only one set of footprints.

but the tide washed them off

and I couldn't help but think that in all the pictures I took, there was no trace of you.

but there was a trace of me

then it hit me:

I was there ready to take a hit

ready to take the tide and take a leap into the ocean

I was gonna meet you there.

at the middle.

But you got lost.

Somehow my tiny ocean swallowed you.

-M

this place was so beautiful. I just wanted to stay there forever. 

and finally, i thought it was time to upload a picture of me smiling.

Monica.

Self Portraits

test shoot

 So, i've been sharing only self portraits here and sad writing so I think its time to share a recent shoot I did with one of my best friends.
After almost 2 years I finally did a shoot involving more people besides myself, I'm getting back on track.

ps. Isn't she beautiful? :)

-M

 my favorites

Model: Melissa Amezquita

Make up: Marcela Lopez

Photography: Monica C. Salomon (me)

Everything hits harder at night

(random photographs I had laying around on my laptop, nothing really special)

Everything hits harder at night

it hits like a big wave

like the strongest tide

it hits like and earthquake

and like a tornado.

it pulls you up when its black outside and puts you down when the sun goes up

the night feeds me

it feeds me with words and fears

it feeds me with anxieties and endless thoughts

it feeds me with everything I am and everything I am not.

the night molds me into a shape I don't recognize anymore.

and it sometimes molds me into a shape I've become comfortable with.

a shape I've learned to be comfortable with because it really isn't

Everything hits harder at night.

it hits harder because while the world is asleep I am awake.

while the minds are resting mine is imploding.

it hits because while there is no sound at night I can still hear voices.

Maybe that is why people sleep through the night.

maybe they don't want to feel the strongest wave

or the tide

or the earthquake

or the tornado

but sometimes you have no choice.

-M

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After I wrote this I hesitated about posting it because after I read it a few times I think it sounds so sad and depressing. Also I really didn't have the proper photographs to post it with. I promise things are not this bad, I think, but thats what came out as I sat down and write.

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How to Respond

"You've become so damaged that when someone tries to give you what you deserve, you have no fucking idea how to respond"

My guard is always up.

Always.

Wether it is from a situation or someone. I always try to prepare myself for the worst, and "the worst" always come.

Or the complete opposite, nothing comes.

I never expect anything from anyone.

But I trust people.

I just never believe things actually happen.

Because they never do.

So that way I avoid getting disappointed.

Like I've said before I am a creator and an architect of things that haven't happened yet, of days that may never happen.

Sometimes I find myself getting excited about something but somehow I always come back down.

I have to.

I protect myself, maybe I even do that too much that then I find myself afraid and skeptical of things.

And I don't want to be afraid of things.

I don't want to be afraid of you.

I don't want to be afraid of the situation.

Whatever that is.

and I certainly don't want to be skeptical.

I just need to live knowing that some days I may get disappointed, and that other days I may get what I want and need.

I need to learn to respond to good things.

I need to believe that things actually happen.

Things, situations, people, they all happen.

I guess I just need to learn how to see it.

and respond.

So,

how do I start?

How do I respond?

-M

Self Portraits.

----------------

Tumblrs:

WE ARE GROWING YOUNG

FIXATION WITH NOSTALGIA

That Kind of Beautiful .

Something I wrote like 2 months ago

LISTEN

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Today I woke up from a terrible nightmare.

It involved childhood friends and childhood places.

and a terrible plane crash.

Today I woke up and forgot I am 22.

I spent all day thinking and feeling like 17.

My mind does that sometimes when I'm not feeling good.

but thats the thing, I feel good.

or at least I felt good.

Today is Sunday and since Friday night I was left with this weird feeling.

a feeling that reminds me of high school.

of childhood.

of youth.

Of things that are suppose to happen but haven't happened yet.

On friday night I listened to a song I never heard before.

and I felt the whole world stopped.

Not because i liked it so much, or because I liked the lyrics.

No.

Just because I felt it was beautiful .

It felt that kind of beautiful that hurts.

That kind of beautiful that brings tears to your eyes.

That kind of beautiful that brings flashbacks to your memory and makes you want to live there .

That kind of beautiful that screams "Nostalgia" and sews that word and feeling to your heart.

That kind of beautiful that tells you that you are sad but that you can be happy.

That kind of beautiful that makes you feel like 17 but tells you how old you really are.

Thats why I liked it.

Because it was sour.

and sweet.

And I am sour.

and maybe not so sweet.

But I feel.

and I dream.

and I have my bad days.

and my good days.

and i have to come to terms with myself.

I can no longer wake up feeling like 17.

I am no longer there.

that is no longer my place.

and that time is long gone.

So maybe growing up is supposed to be like that song.

Sour.

and sweet.

and beautiful.

now I have to find what kind of beautiful it really is.

is it that kind of beautiful that makes me feel what I'm supposed to feel?

LISTEN

Monica.

---------

Go ahead to my tumblrs:

 This is for my photography work and writings just exactly like this blog:

 WE ARE GROWING YOUNG

and

This one is for everything i like on tumblr but also my writings and photography:

FIXATION WITH NOSTALGIA

I'll start writing random things there if you want to keep up, go follow!

Take me to the sea

Take me to the sea.

Take me somewhere the sun and the light can hit me.

This way I'll see through you

and maybe you'll see through me.

Take me to the sea.

Take me there so that my feet can meet the sand.

and the water.

and the waves.

Take me to the sea.

Take me there so that the waves can wash off my fear.

and my nerves.

and my insecurity.

Take me to the sea.

but swim with me.

swim deep.

Take me to the sea and keep me there until the tide wash off my wall.

Keep me there until you can't see it no more.

and I'll get to you.

and you'll get to me.

No fear.

No nerves

No insecurity.

No wall.

Just you, me and the sea.

Monica.

Self Portrait

SANITY

The other day i found an image with a very interesting thought:

"If you want to know what someone fears losing watch what they photograph" 

It got me thinking.

I am a photographer, or at least i call myself one.

My work is mainly self portraits.

Conceptual, Fine Art. Call it as you want.

I took a brief look at my work with this thought in mind to see if what i fear losing actually translates into my work. 

And then i stumbled onto these pictures from last November that I never published before because I was unsure.

And then it hit me.

I was looking at myself in this picture.

A picture of me with no face, no expression, all of me vanishing into thin air.

In one of them you can actually see my profile as a shadow on the wall, but the real me has no face.

 Sanity.

Something I sometimes brag about having, something I always worry I may not.

Sanity.

Something that I decided to grab by the hand. Something that i realized I'm afraid of losing.

It's not that I'm afraid of going insane, but of instability.

And of making myself believe all of it.

Sanity.

Probably the main topic of my work.
Maybe in a few years I'll ask myself the same question.

What are you afraid of losing?

And I'll take a look at my work.
And maybe it won't be me anymore on those pictures.

And I'll say I'm afraid of losing something else.

or SOMEBODY else.

But instead of fearing losing that, I fear I may not find it.

Monica.
Self Portraits.
---------------------------------------

Hey, i just created a tumblr. I wanted to change platforms and move all of my posts from this blog to my new tumblr and i already did but i still don't know how it works or how to post, how to share images from my flickr, from this blog, etc.
Once i find out I'll be posting there.
Go check it out:
www.wearegrowingyoung.tumblr.com