tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52782349619964330972011-06-21T13:15:40.593-07:00Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12786065913398551779noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5278234961996433097.post-66052572617432312382011-06-21T13:15:00.000-07:002011-06-21T13:15:40.602-07:00Old photographs of happy times make me feel sad, even if the people in them are still in my life. They remind me of a changed friendship or changing times. If the person isn't in my life anymore, photographs of us smiling together make me wish they were.<br /><br />I hate seeing my scars in photographs. I never hide my scars anymore, but catching sight of them in a photo is like seeing them on someone else, it sends a jolt through me.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5278234961996433097-6605257261743231238?l=voicesinthedarkness.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12786065913398551779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5278234961996433097.post-80829213946079890752011-05-17T12:08:00.000-07:002011-05-17T12:08:05.741-07:00I want to talk but I don't know who I want to talk to or what I want to say. <br /><br />For so many years I haven't said anything and now I don't know where to start. Things I can't define even in my head. <br /><br />This is not the time or the place. I'm not sure there is a time or a place.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5278234961996433097-8082921394607989075?l=voicesinthedarkness.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12786065913398551779noreply@blogger.com0