Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
axel whitman | the dead one about living | epilogue
journal entry #1: february 06, 2015
This usually isn't my style. I live life through photography and filming, not necessarily through writing. But I bought this really cool leather-bound journal a few days ago, and I've been sitting in my room for the longest time, wondering what the hell I should write in it. It's just one of those journals that are aesthetically pleasing on the outside, as well as the inside, and it shouldn't even be ruined by the slightest press of a pen or the smallest wrinkle of my own human error. At the same time, it should be filled to the brim and more because it's also one of those journals where I can write every emotion, every single fiber of my being inside of this journal.
So, that's what I decided to do with it. I've got the pleasure of being able to write in this. It's just me, the journal, and the pen that connects us.
•••
journal entry #8: february 14, 2015
So, it's that time of year. The time of year where the hand-holding, the kisses, the love-making, the 'I love yous' intensify. The time of year where more flowers and chocolates and jewelry and cards are sold and given to their loved ones. The time of year that shouldn't be the only time of year where we're more affectionate and loving to our significant others. If anything, the whole fucking idea of it is a complete joke to me.
Hell, I should be able to hold hands, kiss, have sex, say 'I love you' to Reagan without any motives. I should give chocolates or jewelry or whatever to my girlfriend (or even my mother or sister) any fucking time of the year I want. I shouldn't be restrained by some random-ass date on the calendar. It just bothers me every time I think about it. It's like a person's only being nice to someone just to get something out of them in the end. Why do you need a reason to be nice? Why can't you be nice just for the hell of it?
Thankfully, Reagan wholeheartedly agrees with my opinion, or else I'd have a very angry girlfriend on my hands. I guess four years does that to a relationship, creating a mutual bond and a trust between two people. So, instead of taking her out to a fancy dinner and showering her with flowers (that she's ironically allergic to), we simply sat down on my living room couch, wrapped up in a blanket, and watched The Office on Netflix. We even made out a few times. Just saying.
•••
journal entry #25: march 23, 2015
Do you ever wish that you could be a better person?
