01/07/2025
Another year of staying alive when I swore I wouldn’t. Another year of picking up my camera because it’s the only thing that makes sense when nothing else does. I’ve spent the last few years filming s**t I wish I could keep forever, taking photos of people who left anyway, making art out of my own mess because what else do you do when you’re tired of explaining your sadness?
I’m building my own place now — a studio, four walls that are mine, a roof over my stubbornness. It’s half-finished, just like me. Maybe it’ll stand when I can’t. Maybe it’s the only proof I have that I stayed when my mind told me to run.
To the ones who stayed — you know who you are. Thank you for not letting go even when I pushed. For being there when I went silent. For feeding me when I forgot how. For staying up when I spiraled. For laughing when all I could do was cry.
To the ones who didn’t — good. Thank you for showing me the exits. For teaching me that not every empty seat needs filling. For proving that loyalty can’t be begged for. You made more room for the real ones.
To the absences — I know we’re all busy trying to survive our own bulls**t. I know you’re fighting too. I hope you’re okay.
So here’s me — still tired, still too much, still loving too hard, still filming everything before it leaves. Happy fu***ng birthday to the unfinished version of myself. I’m still here. Still shooting. Still mine.
Nica Bianca Lamajan