Another short day gone by in my short life, as this tumultuous summer slowly twinkles and fades like the last liquid dazzling sunshine dripping, reaching, reaching over the horizon before the inevitable numbness; dusk. It's always easy to speak of octaves rising and falling, ordeals beginning and ending, trials and innocence and guilt. We've all been through it so many times it almost takes on this surreal quality of overwhelming apathy, so that we can't even really lament the last bastion of our collective childhoods being forcibly confiscated from us.
I miss making up games. I miss otter pops. I miss young summer romances. I miss reading comic books, writing letters longhand, and going to the park with my dad, just for no reason.
I wonder why I don't miss certain things, until I remember you can't miss something or someone who was never there in the first place. And then I know.
I have a theory as to why I'm not very photogenic. Everytime I look at a camera lens i'm not thinking about my fake smile or how my body is positioned or how my hair looks. I'm just thinking, what is this picture gonna remind me of in ten years? Twenty? What is this photo gonna mean to my kids? Will I remember the place. the people I loved, the feel of the wind at my back and the sun on my face? Will I remember, most of all, that small slice of existence captured forever in digitized pixels? Will I ever be the same again?
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