Model and Words: Jasmine Alleva
photography by Bartlomiej Kurela
MUA by Jessica
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I live a life of transparency. Ok, I lied. Maybe translucency. Enough to let you know where I am and what I’m doing, but not enough to take you into my bones and make you feel the marrow of what I’m going through. Not enough to let the dirtier, rougher details of my life muddy your hands. But enough to keep you interested as I scrape and scar my own. Enough to make you watch. Enough to even make you care.
Two years ago, I left for Australia. Two years ago, I packed up a pair of brand new tin suitcases and set off across the Pacific, lugging hope in their handles. The same suitcases hold less promise now, their corners mummified in duct tape, covering the abuse they have seen being thrown on and off tarmac. I suffered the same. My spirit has been broken down by airports and the mishandling of humans, but here I am.
“I have lived a life in these past two years. A life some of you might envy and some of you might pity, but its mine and I have a right to tell its story…”
People always claim they don’t know where the time went. I know exactly where the time went: by. I never thought it would happen so quickly. I look back on the girl I was and compare her to the girl I am today. Rock bottom then is above me now as my feet are taken down. And I pray to whatever Gods may be that this low point isn’t going to be laughed at by a future me, as I’m doing right now to a past me. I have lived a life in these past two years. A life some of you might envy and some of you might pity, but its mine and I have a right to tell its story – and one day, when I’ve mustered the courage from a place I haven’t developed yet, I will. See? Translucency.
I need you to know that its hard right now. Before a way led onto a way, I was a geology student. For some reason, the passing of time seems less cataclysmic when realizing that it always has been cataclysmic, but on a scale of billions of years rather than the mere decades we as humans get to mess up. And as a former geology student, I can tell you that below rock bottom, where you can find me and just about half of the world’s population, that’s called the transition zone. That’s where the magic happens. We decide whether to go up or down.
“I realize I have relayed more than most and less than some. On this journey, I may have come across as fearless or undefeatable, but I can assure you the opposite is true”
I realize I have relayed more than most and less than some. On this journey, I may have come across as fearless or undefeatable, but I can assure you the opposite is true. I am constantly afraid and more gloves have beat me down than the amount of times I have raised my own to the sky. I am no victor. But I am here and maybe that’s a victory in and of itself.
The next few months will procure change; change that I’m not necessarily ready for but need to happen. And in this transition zone, I have decided I will go up. And time will go by, as it always has. And I will become a victor.
read all chapters here
Photographer: Bartlomiej Kurela – @bartlomiejkurela
MUA: Jessica – @islandgirlmua
