The image looked so perfect in my hands, glossy, vibrant and full of life. The clock on the wall to my right said 8:59pm. For a moment time stood still, and then it continued.
I tried my best to make it stop but was powerless against its forces. I didn't want to stand there as this snapshot faded to dust and that dust fell through my hands, scattered with the blowing of the winds that came cold over the mountain. I didn't want this picture to disappear, and yet time kept on spinning, blurring the edges of the photograph in my mind.
The colors all turned gray and the edges bent, still I stood there holding onto it. This photograph is not mine and I was trying so hard to put myself into it. I should have let it go. I tried to tear it in two but something stopped me. I tried to put it away but it kept coming back to me. Over time it faded a little bit more, and eventually there was nothing there to remind me of what it was I had once held in my hands.
I had put my heart and soul into making the perfect picture. I had given more of me than I thought I had to give. This perfect world I had built was but a snapshot, a twinkling of the eye, an illusion of sorts that I believed to be true. Soon, as with all things, the sands of time had covered it up and nothing remained of what I had once held in my hands.
I wish I could find a place of comfort, solitude, and of peace, a place where the picture never fades and time does not erase. A place where each memory is as alive as the one before it, and where giving is as equal as taking. Only time can heal what's been hurt, and I only wish it was later than 8:59pm...
Copyright Roxx Hunter 2018.