≪ Pictures ≫
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ◇ 写真 ◇
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In the parlor of my manor, a large photo of my parents and I hangs on the wall. I rarely travel there for the fact that I don't want to see it. It brings back too many memories that I am unable to handle. It distracts me into considering allowing feeling back into my heart. But, when I'm forced to face it for whatever reason, I am overcome with the strangest feeling. In my mind, I know they're gone. And yet, part of them seems to remain, and I don't mean in my memories. I can feel them coming closer while also slipping away. I want to remember them always, but I can't stand losing them time and time over... That's what happens when I lay eyes on the past. In the pictures, both of them look so happy. Their beauty is radiant, their smiles glow. Even so, that's precisely what I'm looking at - pictures, things of history that've come and gone. They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but the ones I have speak but only one: rage. It's all I can feel when thinking about their fate, and seeing the smiling faces that were wiped blank. That's also why I choose to ignore the old pictures. They bring my parents back to life, only for them to die all over again in the end. - ☾
