silencia

Image above: Mari Lowery, 2008. All rights reserved.

What was once considered beauty incarnate, has now turned into quite the atrocity. While feelings of hurt, betrayal, anger, and disgust dance around me with sour air, I find that Id rather be happy than to let your bullshit existence dump on my parade.

Its cold and dark out. Im imbibing on a bitter virgin while attempting converse with, not one, but TWO attractive ladies. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice my phone light up and feel the tiny vibration on the table. I initially attempt to ignore the minor distraction my phone created, but my peripherals picked up a few key words that prompted a quick, mumbled apology and a full on encasement in rude town.

Is that pic of ________ on the _____ flyer she posted in her ______ blog yours?
My heart starts to race and my hand begin to shake. No. Fucking. Way. I try to save face as much as possible to not let my lovely company catch on that something is wrong, but Im a horrible liar and they end up finding out anyway. I fumbled over my words as I tried to explain what I just found out, and try to not let my shaky hands interfere my navigation on the fancy piece of technology I held in my hands.

It felt weird to search for you. Although our falling out hadnt happened that long ago, I really hadnt put much thought into you. Your name had become synonymous with the venom you spewed in my direction when I told you that I didnt feel respected by you. So I hid you away to let you collect dust. Out of sight, out of mind.

I found what the text tipped me to. Upon recognizing the picture, a flurry of emotion tornadoes around me, and then I notice the intricate details that continue to twist the knife I now feel in my back. The copyright and logo had been cropped out, and my name was not credited anywhere as the photographer. I try to remember to breathe, while slowly and calmly attempting to type As the photographer of this image, I did not provide consent nor was I given any credit in this publication.

Concerned voices echo around me. What are you going to do? Thats so fucked up. What an asshole. I find that Im just sitting there. The world is blurring around me, and I remain motionless. I eventually snap out of it to do what I always seem to do in shit storms plaster a half smile on my face, brush the shit off shoulders, acknowledge what happened by saying well, that sucked, and try move on.

Sadly, the story doesnt end here. Boredom leads me to look at my phone and I notice a new comment on my page:

(publicly posted)
As a person whose image was used, without my prior knowledge or consent before it was published, I cant do anything for you on that.

I anticipated this response from you, if you have a problem, you can e-mail (name omitted).

Its not mine, and I dont have to placate your feelings anymore.

(privately sent)
The image used was used without my consent or knowledge, it was a surprise by the owners of the establishment. As you might note, its not credited to anyone. If you have a problem with that, you can contact (name omitted), and Im sure he will tell you to fuck right off. Nice to know you still look at my page, weirdo.

Any further contact will not be read, nor dealt with.

Really? Way to put yourself in a harsh light, dude.


Its the eve of the birthday of a key figure in my recent history. I bombard Him with silly texts illustrating my excitement for His impeding birthday. Communicating with Him helps me mostly forget, but He always seems to know when something is wrong. Always.

Baby? Need an ear? A Friend? Can I Help?
I can help. Even with boy problems. Im without judgment and only with concern and interest. Know that.

I tell him.

Oh no! Artistic theft, plus no credit (intentional no credit), betrayal, and then irrational aggression at your far too forgiving rationality? You must have a beating heart in your throat. Baby!

He calls me, and we spend an hour and a half on the phone. He listens to my every word and asks questions. Although I cried a little bit during the conversation (because I am such an overly sensitive person), I am feeling better and stronger than before. He invites me to take an impromptu all-expense paid vacation to New York, but my schedule is too busy for that. It felt good to speak with Him, and I can feel the foundation I had been working on for myself really take root.


Ive already spent too much energy on this, and have said more than was necessary. What happened was really shitty, but I learned a lot from this. People cant be trusted, and release forms are an absolute fucking must from here on out (even for friends).


To the people who voluntarily (or involuntarily) witnessed this blow out: I want to say Im sorry and thank you. Im sorry you were witness to this. This is my issue, and in no way do I want this to pose as any sort of burden. However, I thank you for your support and words of encouragement whether it took the form of what a fucking asshole! or This is so shitty. Im sorry, knowing that I wasnt alone made a world of difference. Oh, and thank you for the hugs (in person and over the phone!)


Im making things happen with my life. I feel like I am comfortable and content with where Im at and what Im doing. Never before has the picture ever seemed so clear.



On another note, I've knocked off another item off my life changing to-do list I am on a roll!

Love and shit,
Silencia