AN/ Hi! This just came to me so I had to write it down.
I wish that memories weren't photographs.
A photo is worth a thousand words so how many are a memory worth? Photos are something that can capture so many things like emotions, actions but mainly memories. And when we remember those things it's like the image is distorted, almost how it is through that measly camera lens.
So many of my worst and greatest memories are there imprinted in ink on my brain and face where everyone can view them.
The image of those pained faces as I took their lives.
The image of those satisfied people I call customers.
The image of those people I called family abandoning me.
The image of those judging faces watching my moves.
The image of those putrid roses and the man who owns their scent. Snow.
And the pictures last a lifetime don't they? I wish I could forget them but they cling to my skin like I'm a photo album who's proud to hold them. Will they never leave? I must have pressed the shutter button by accident for I'm quite sure I never wanted to have a copy of those times. Living it once was bad; living it twice is unbearable. So what about three times? Or four? Or five? When that image is laid out in front of you, you can't help but take a little peak with growing curiosity. You'll regret it but it won't stop you doing it the next time.
The worst is when a memory is framed. It's almost like you're actually proud. How can someone be proud of something so murderously evil?! People go into the games but the way they've seen it is through propaganda. It's all ideology! They give us Career districts this ideal to strive for, an image to mould ourselves upon but what we don't get is that it's been edited like everything else that comes in and out of the Capitol. Nothing leaves as it enters. I include myself in that too. We've been photo shopped to look like something powerful when we're cookie crumble on the inside.
Pictures are good at deception.
Often we deceive ourselves, our own minds, our own memories. Then how do you know what's true?
Have you ever just been overcome with sorrow? For me, as that occurs, memories overpower me too and they collage themselves into a montage of agony to drive me into insanity.
Faces, actions (my own and others), words, lives, deaths, emotions.
Pictures show them all.
So do memories.
And they're the most painful of all.
Sometimes when I'm walking within the Capitol walls I see other people's pictures too. There are those who waft them under your nose and there are those like me who try to hide them but everyone can already see them. At night I try to wash the bloody ink from my hands but it just smudges that fateful image in disgust. It's no good.
Ink is permanent.
When they mark your skin with it you know it won't come out.
That's what memories are.
Permanent.
When they mark your brain with them you know they won't come out.
A/N Well please be nice and leave me a review!
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ME4427