I've always liked the concept of pictures.
Moments captured and frozen like holding your breath during a kiss
Or during a scary part in the movies.
Forever young and forever motionless in a memory.
Proof that I was here once.
That I lived a life that was only my own.
Some pictures we rip up or burn away,
As if to destroy any evidence that certain memories happened.
Some pictures we only keep in our minds simply because we didn't think to bring a camera at that moment.
Pictures we hide and conceal
Only to bring out while no one is looking.
The silence of conversations being played back in my mind...
The closeness of friends or the heartbreak of loneliness.
Reminding ourselves of the times our hearts skipped beats or our eyes were filled with the heat of tears.
The pictures we keep to remind us of choices that were made that can never be undone.
We live to create memories...
We live to exist...
We live to leave ourselves behind.
Wether there's a heaven, a hell, or nothing...
Our pictures we keep in our own company or as heirlooms to those we love,
Those are the identities we wish to fade away with.
I buzz in anticipation of the pictures I'd take each day.
The selfies or accidental camera flashes that last only a day or forever.
Embracing the idea that a stranger will see my face and wonder who the person is behind it.
As I do with many others.
My still frame life is documented in silence but can be looked through at anytime of my choosing.
I'm only as mortal as my memories.
My images will fracture and spread when I am long gone.
And I'm fine with that.