The Photos I Don’t Share

Not every photo needs an audience. Some are meant to stay with me, asking for nothing but to be remembered.

I’ve a prompt I use with ChatGPT, in which I ask it to distill what it can infer about me based on everything I’ve written, asked, or queried. Strangely, I think it understands more of the real me than even my family does.

One thing it once said struck me: Create without the intention of sharing—just make something. Write a blog post, take a photo, compose a piece of music—but do it solely for yourself. The idea was to let go of the fear of criticism or the pressure for validation, and to create simply for the joy of it.

What if I did just that? Created solely for myself—like I used to when I took photos purely to remember something, printed them, and tucked them away for no one but me. Honestly, those photos would likely mean nothing to anyone else, but that’s what makes them special. It feels like a return to the beginning—more meaningful, unspoiled by the thought of impressing others.

I’ve started doing this recently, and I must admit—it feels far better than chasing likes or comments.

That said, there are still one or two photos I especially like and share on my Glass.photo account. I barely use Instagram anymore. It feels irritating—like a ghost of what it once was.

I still keep going, though I don’t shoot as often as I used to—and that’s intentional. That’s the whole point now: I shoot with purpose. I shoot to create, to tell a story—whether it’s a sprawling narrative across a series of photos or a single image that invites viewers to reflect, feel, and make their own story from it.