Getting My Picture Taken

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Looking back at my childhood, I’ve never really liked taking pictures.
You stand in place, smile, and then, flash, a still frame of a single moment in time.
One millisecond is preserved for as long as that photo exists.
It remains, detached from an ever-changing and chaotic timeline that will never stop.
Time stops for no one, but many have stopped for time.
I think about death a lot,
how it always leans over your shoulder telling you, “I’m waiting,”
how its presence always seems to constrict the human mind with fear.
Fear is a powerful drug,
a drug that is really hard to end an addiction to,
because it keeps us safe and sane.
I often think about the brutality of time,
how it bludgeons the body with the pain and suffering of a lifetime every day.
Pictures are scary, for a few reasons.
They can only preserve a single moment, a tiny fraction of the time it takes to say the word picture.
They also remind others that you existed.
I think about death a lot,
how death is not just one moment, but rather one half of an eternal struggle between it and life.
However, death usually wins in the end.
I really don’t like pictures still, not because I of the people I take them with,
but because of how I’ll be remembered when a single frame can’t explain a whole life.

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4 comments

  1. This really resonated with me. I think of death a lot too. Most of the time the concept is just too great to conceive and I can’t manage to feel anything about it, but on certain nights, the immense fear of being consumed and erased is just so real.

    Liked by 2 people

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