journal and writing

Gratitude and Equanimity by Rebecca Tillett

I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive the 15 years of time that existed between knowing you and loving you; but maybe it’s hollow lamenting not-knowings, past lives you were only a part of in obscure ways, or distances we utilized as justifications to exist separately in the universe. It feels wrong indulging such a twinge in my heart over something that finally submerged me in much needed hope, happiness, love, and fruition, because I’m anything but ungrateful.

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In Harmony with the Hurt by Rebecca Tillett

l think about you on these roads to nothingness, I think about my pain or regret or guilt that have become dead-end branches off my heart forever reminding the blood running through me that I could have been better, that I fucked up, that some things are never undone and never forgiven and never forgotten. Have you forgiven me? Have you eulogized the branches of your own heart? Or are you still struggling to live in harmony with the hurt?

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Bloomed by Rebecca Tillett

How often do you do something that absolutely terrifies you? I've done 2 such things in the last week. I believed in myself enough to go after something I never would have throughout past versions of me, something that scared me but something I knew with every beating fiber of my heart that I could do and was more than qualified to do. I'm much more confident now, more comfortable with who I am and what I'm capable of, more ready for challenges and opportunities to lead.

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Team Dunnero by Rebecca Tillett

In the years it takes to double our lifetimes from the onset of our days as silly teenagers, I'll watch you profess your love and devotion to a lucky gentleman with a handlebar mustache on the banks of the Rio Grande, ablaze and glowing with the heat of the Fall desert sun. Your beautiful and brilliantly white dress, shimmering and dancing with each affectionate word you utter in the direction of impending and hopeful days, your relentless tears waging cyclonic wars behind the barriers of your reinforced but dampened eyes. Every word, a promise, every syllable a solemn prayer.

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AdobeMAX by Rebecca Tillett

The walk was not scenic but it was beautiful. And it was sad. It was through some extremely poor/low-income areas and I lost count of the many mattresses and makeshift sidewalk homes I'd pass on my way each day, the piles of garbage, the struggling mothers all hurrying their kids to school down the block. And the contrast of such surroundings with the people I'd encounter only minutes later sitting in beautiful conference halls, working on their MacBooks, answering emails on their tablets and having conversations on their smartphones was jarring at the very least.

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Redwood National Park by Rebecca Tillett

There is nothing I can say about the trees to describe them to you if you've never seen them or found yourself in their presence. I hope you trust in my sincerity when I announce my satisfaction at that realization. It's true. I'm so utterly contented knowing there are places in this world that lie outside the boundaries of articulated description, places you simply have to see and feel and experience to know.

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Catch and Release by Rebecca Tillett

I think like so many others, I have these moments, these days or weeks or sometimes even months where I'm doubting myself in some tormenting capacity. Is this where I'm supposed to be? Have I been eating all the wrong foods? Have I gotten heavier? Am I spending enough time outside? Will I always be reliant on a desk job for a paycheck? Are there enough people that care about me? Am I proud of myself professionally? Can I call myself an artist? Where has any of it taken me? ("...to Rome?" Thanks for the reminder Kirsten!)

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Sex Swing by Rebecca Tillett

We’re consistently being judged and schooled in the ways of a righteous and moral existence by men who keep mistresses, fuck gay male prostitutes and molest their little sisters, all while voting against laws that would give women, minorities and gays equal rights. It’s one classic case of do as I say, not as I do after another and the obvious and blatant hypocrisy is stomach-churning.

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Almost Like God by Rebecca Tillett

Every child wants to know that their parents not only love them but love each other. I have small fuzzy memories of what could have been love between my mother and father: laughter, tickling, pet names, but those small moments had all faded and died before I was out of elementary school. From that point on until my father shot himself, my parents were strangers to each other at their best and bitter enemies at their worst. 

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Lumiere Tintype by Rebecca Tillett

Last week my boyfriend, Mike and I had the pleasure of catching Adrian with Lumiere Tintype Photography during his summer road-trip stop here in Denver. I've always always always wanted a tintype portrait so my excitement at this can hardly be contained. I'll surely treasure this photo for many years to come.

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