Dirty Laundry: Washington DC

I inhale deeply. The warmth around me feels familiar, but the scent of the washing soap is something that I don't recgonise. I fumble for my phone in the darkness. The illuminated screen reads 06:30. I roll over in the darkness. I just want the ache in my bones to go away. Even if it's just a little bit of pain relief. It's only then do I realise that I'm not in my own bed. I remember that I'm in DC. The previous day of the bus ride comes back in tattered pieces. I'm too tired to think about anything now. I just need to rest. I close my eyes and fall back into a blissful state of unconciousness. I awake an hour or so later, just as the morning sun is starting to peek through the thin curtains of the room. I finally wake up and stretch, taking in my surroundings. The branches of the tree outside the windows catches the morning wind and it looks like just for a moment it's waving at me. Shaking off sleep, I climb out of the bed. The floor is colder than I expected. I need to do something. I don’t want to wake up 10 years from now and see that I’m still in the same place. I don’t want to wake up and face the realisation that I’ve done nothing with my life. I can’t sit back idol while people and places pass me by. I look back now at the past 10 years of my life, my 20’s and can’t help but think almost all of that time was misspent. I don’t regret my travels and trials, they have helped to shape my world views, taught me hard truths about life and have given me many experiences most can only dream of; And yet, I can’t help but feel…unfulfilled. That there is so much more that I could have done-could be doing. Maybe it’s just the familiar depression once again invading my cells, hijacking the human part of me. And, to some degree, I feel like I have nothing to show for it.

I love going to a city where nobody knows who I am. I wander the streets uknown, mouthing the words to my favourite songs, painting new meriales on my soul. I could dissapear in a place like this and no one would ever known. It could be my own free will or foul play. Sometimes its like all the possibilities flow through me as I raise my camera, adjust the lense and capture a moment in time. This could be the last image that I leave in the world. I take a deep breathe and snap the image. I feel better. It's in moments like these that I really wonder what all these medications are supposed to be doing to help me? The cracks in the mirror are deepening and I can't help but wonder when it will shatter...Not to mention what will be the fall out. I'm hoping that it's something grandious, but perhaps the love for dramatics speaking. I'm tried of the meanings leaving in metaphor..I want my lips to meet that of a stangers in the back of the train car. I want to taste her troubles while she swallows mine. I want to feel her with every part of me-all five senses, take in this being and completely loose myself in another, even if it's just for the afternoon. I become a stain on a strangers sheets...it will probably be awkward when I leave the apartment. I know myself, I'll want another taste of something that I really shouldn't. Old habits die hard, I suppose. I want to leave the apartment nothing but dirty launtry. I feel lighter, having worked out my frustrations. I'll crash and sleep 14 hours...It's something that I want to explore. See if I can loosen up enough, break free of this comfort zone that I've build up around me for so long. Images become memories and Images become memories. Who needs thereapy with a plan like this? And if it doesn't work, it's nor like I'm gonna end up any worse than before. I need to let go of the anxiety and just feel the rush.

I look into the eyes of the boy king. Despite the thousands of years between us, I feel the deternimation, courage and passion radiating from him. A hallmark of a leader, not just a ruler. Not a career politician out to line his pockets with the blood money of his constituits. I can't help but wonder what the world would be if we still held ourselves and our leaders to the same standards that the ancients did. It would probably be a better place; not that greed and sex scandals wouldn't still be a thing, but if we embraced morality and respect rather than segreation and focusing on differences, the human race could accomplish so much. I wonder if people ever stop to realise just how much human beings have changed over the past 10,00 plus years; I don't just mean as a society but as individuals? Evolution, ideas of worship, deep truths and knoweldge almost seem lost in the modern skyscrapers. Nuggets of the past hidden among the passionless stainless steel and mirrored glass. Sometimes I feel like I am searching for a world that no longer exists; well, maybe only in memories it might exist. I feel that sometimes my quest for knowledge and the truth only leads me to a dissatisfaction. I'm hopeful that I will find the answers to the questions I seek. Although part of me is skeptical. I've spent the last few years pouring over volume after volume, exploring place after place and still, I feel that I am still only skimming the surface of everything. Maybe I'm just looking in the wrong place. Maybe my new course will provide me with the comfort and knowledge that I seek. I've aways been the seeker type, only now it's a more intense focus.

I've always been fascinated by the Egyptian book of the Dead, the mummification process and the care that went into their funeral rights. There seems to be a care and respect that is missing in today's mortuary sciences; it feels as if it is all just done for profit, rather than a care of the craft. I feel a deep sadness brewing within me, but I can't place what it's from. My friendships? My unachieved goals? Or is it something bigger than all that? Bigger than myself. I can't help but. feel that my friends and those around me take me for granted, use me and then turn things around to make me feel like I've done something wrong. That I'm ungreatful for their friendship, when in reality, it is them treating me like a human doormat.