The chapters of my life...

It turns out that I hadn't posted this bundle of photos yet of my journal while I had already posted the "missing pages" post. Sorry about that guys! That definitely must be confusing. Well, I won't exactly be describing each and every page in full detail while providing my own commentary and explanation (hopefully) but the pictures will all still be here regardless. Feel free to simply zoom in by clicking the pictures to see the pages better. 

"To my Love, my Hope, and my Inspiration. You all have helped me breathe when I was drowning."

This book/journal that you see here, if you couldn't tell based off of the title of this post, depicts different parts, points, and "pages" of my life. It was created while I was undergoing particular feelings, thoughts, and personalities. Reliving the emotions and the drama inside of my head while splurging and losing myself in the process so dear to me. Truthfully, there are so many different things that I could properly say about this book and each of the different pages of it, but I won't, for everyone's sake. My life, in my honest opinion, is a sob story. An unfortunate story about a young girl born in the dead center of any sob story's heart. But moving on.

The above page was stitched on with yarn and glued beads down to achieve the look that you see above. Similarly, with the dedication page. Then a design was created using ink pens and felt tip permanent markers. 

"Childhood is sweet. Children are a myth of innocence. 

Happy memories are temporary. Hide them away."

Growing up, I had little of a childhood. I had little idea of what innocence was and what determined it. I had always misinterpreted my memories and the feelings associated with them. Finally, after years and years of analyzing the memories and emotions that I had locked away so dearly to remember my life in a positive way, I had finally determined what they really were. Temporary. A myth. A misinterpretation of my mind's misconstrued miraculous memories. 

Children are a myth of innocence if your interpretation of innocence is a synonym for purity or angelic. Children are the protagonists of their childhoods. Childhoods are their stepping stones. Their stepping stones are what changes their "innocence" to "ignorance". Leaving children as what...?

 What determines innocence? 

What qualifies as a child? 

What consists of a myth?

The next page that you see above is pure ink over top of an eco-dyed paper.

"Life is not black and white. There are no 'right' ways to live."

I'm sure these pages are self explanatory. 

Home. There's no place like home. There's just no place like home.

Appearances can be deceiving. 

Misconceptions.

Which one will you choose? The culture of Southern California's liberal youth, filled with extremes, misinterpretations, pretentiousness, and // spoiled behavior and appropriation. Or... the heritage of the homeland by the name of the Philippines, filled with hard work, a sense of life, the bare importance and necessities, while competing with a growing number of unlimited desires and craving for endless degrees of luxury and gain, Which will it be? 

Privileges or "Primitives" ? 

Will you tell a word about what's on your mind? 

How about both? 

How selfish of you.

You are bound by the blood in your veins. The blood is thicker, regardless. 

"You can't have it both ways."

That's not my name.

There was a time where I had spent the majority of my time fooling around rather than really doing much before I had gotten into a relationship with Reis. Thankfully. 

"Culture has brought me pain."

"your life has already been mapped out for your own good."

An obvious...map.

Taken out of context. 

Filled with metals, soda cap tops, bread closures, blades, bobby pins, you name it.

Who I am. What my romance showcases.

"Don't speak."

My body. My beliefs.

Who am I. What am I wearing?

I'm sorry for the lack of commentary near the end. I feel rather overwhelmed continuing it, so I'll be continuing it later perhaps.