I hadn’t felt truly alone until I felt like an alien in my own family.   Living on my own was working out until finances slimmed and paying the bills became a struggle.  I’d entered into a depression and all I had to look to was my sister’s similar, but more pronounced decline into dependency and addiction.  I couldn’t compromise these ideas of what life felt like, and the life my parents wanted for my sister and I.  Their move across the ocean felt like abandonment; as the phone calls became less frequent, I began to lie, about my sister, about how my day was, leaving the webcam off.  I wanted to keep their dream alive, at least in terms of my sister, so they could worry less.  The support system I had felt cold and oppressive.  They knew enough to try and help, but not enough to feel worry, not the kind that I felt.  The process of photographing became like an examination, of my relationships and of myself.  Photographing empowered me, waking me from this dream that my life had become.