Personality In The Photos We Take

I didn’t want to be that blogger that puts out content for to stay relevant; I really wanted something of value. I thought really hard even had some self reflecting moments and even bouts of depression. I looked at my old photos and found who I really was once again. 

My color mastery Took a few steps up over the years

Personality in Habit

I have taken many photos in my life; of myself and of others and I seen a common theme. Even though the concepts were different the idea and personality was the same. Freedom. I love freedom. The photos I take often speak on the expression of freedom and the struggles that we —myself included, face on a day-to-day basis.


“I feel as if the real me is trapped inside a cage and this body is me astral projecting into a world where I do not exist. This is where I embark on a journey to set myself free.”

Look at your old photos and see what personality stands out to you…

My Story

I was made fun of so much growing up and seen as the obvious guy who will never get a girl that it crushed me before a tear could roll down my cheeks. I mean no one sugar-coated how ugly they thought I was. I got the “Oh, hell no,” and “No way would I ever date him.” And the out of the blue jokes at my expense and I didn’t even have a large emotional budget.

That lead me to do less expressing of myself ultimately tricking myself into thinking this is how I really am and not point it out for what it really was; a prison. This person of showing little emotion stayed in power well into my adulthood. It is still in control, as to this day not many care about what comes out of my mouth. I found only my ears have value now. My money is valuable of course but no one is getting that.

When I took this photo it reminded me how often I look down when I am depressed. There I saw a leaf I could related to. Brown so considered undesirable, trapped and deemed worthless. Yet it was beautiful and needed to be free. 

Subconscious personality

Over the years I have taken some interesting photos with a direction that seem to have a back story but I never released one. I just felt like I needed to do it. Today I realized it was me calling out for help. My inner self wanting freedom. It all makes sense. I hate being bored. I hate sitting at home doing nothing it drives me crazy. I hate it because I constantly feel trapped. Doing nothing makes me feel even more trapped.

In Body-out-of-body experience

I had a dream that a wise woman showed me a symbol to prevent harm from coming to me in a place filled with gun violence so I woke up and drew this. 

Crazy title right? I feel as if the real me is trapped inside a cage and this body is me astral projecting into a world where I do not exist. This is where I embark on a journey to set myself free. I feel depression because somewhere alone the way I ran out of funding for the adventure and had to get a job; and that job was only good enough to survive. I feel as if dying is me running out of spiritual energy to the projection and the body becomes lifeless.

The Photos


A worm’s-eye view looking up shows new the eye of new grass growing where old brown grass will fall and provide energy to me as I look to the sky. To add fire to this concept there a beautiful woman close yet for the scale of the eyes a long distance away.

If you can imagine that the blades of grass is the size of the trees and the trees literally reach the atmosphere. Now, how far away does she appears. She is the goal for freedom and the isolation I face from others I seek. 


Such a lonely place built for crowds. The fear of dying alone is only trumped by the fear of living without a purpose. That is like being alone in the universe.


When it comes to the desires of life this was always an iconic photo for myself. I dreamed about the things and people who I missed out in life and usually what I missed is currently in my life in another form.

Somehow the past is always brighter than the future while the present seems to be invisible; never sure what we have until it’s in our past.  

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