Both he and I know that I am living in that camera of his.  Sweet girl, trapped, knowing nothing but laughter and million-watt smiles.

I don't know if he will ever develop the film.

Those were some of my brightest days, no matter how flimsy the flame was. Late nights filled with friends and stars and empty baseball fields.

I refuse to forget her. Sweet girl who tried her hardest, supplicated herself to his every mood, broke her bones to make him laugh. Because those photos are the proof that I meant something to him once. That he was just as much a part of the memories as I was.

Even though we're strangers now, maybe you even loved me once, when I was sepia.

So, cut me out if you will.
Cut me out of your film, I do not much mind.