Sometimes, all you can ever do is watch— watch life as it passes by your very own eyes. Even if photographs themselves can’t do justice, taking matters into your own hands is only so wrong. We photograph moments and things to remember because “nobody wants to take a picture of something they don’t want to remember.” I suppose that’s why it hurts so much to look at a photograph that’s so right, yet so utterly wrong at the same time. There’s nothing we can do about it because the moments we imagined, the moments that we believed would never happen, and the people we never expected to betray our trust have manifested in this world. What makes it worse is that it has also manifested into a physical form— a proof of your own worst fears and deepest sorrow. It’s there but we just can’t do a damn thing about it except to question its very truth, its validity, more than we question our very own existence. This “world” is no longer ours despite it once being ours. So why bother being engulfed by the darkness of it by free will and obsession. It’s all just too damn lonely.
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