When I was in high school, I posted all the pictures I had at my disposal on my walls. Almost every inch of three walls were covered with all the memories miraculously captured on film. I chose the pictures that made me smile, made me happy, made me forget where I was – even if it was for just a moment.
I surrounded myself with pictures of happiness as if I were trying to convince myself that I could be happy. Or at the very least, used to be happy. It was hard, then, to think that I would get out of it.
But I did. Took a few years and a thousand miles of distance from that room that used to suffocate me. Now, when I look at pictures of myself, surrounded by the people I love, I don’t need the reminder to be happy. I know that I am.
Photo courtesy of danregal