You have a picture of the day we met.

How convenient. Just how and why did you happen to have a camera?

Memory fails but the picture remains. Will it remind you of the way we used to be? The way we hoped we would be...

Have I changed much in those 2 odd years? You haven't. Not really. Neither have I really if you think about it.

Sure, the nails are no longer fake, the hair no longer long and the color a lot less bright. I've mellowed through the years. Perhaps it was intentional nbut, looking at the picture, I don't believe it was.

So maybe it wasn't intentional and I have changed much.

Where did I go? Where did that light and fascade vanish to? I was so very secure. But it wasn't me. I still don't know who me is. Not anymore.

I keep changing. Maybe you should take a picture of me now. I won't be the same next time we stop to think about change...

The next time we stop to think about the ways we used to be, the way we wanted to be, the ways we should've been.

The day we met was so very long ago. I was about to embark on a new stage of my life, you have been on the voyage for the same thing, or were you always this different?

You aren't in the picture, someone else was. Someone who stabbed me in the back with embellished truths for convenience. Things that in all this time accumulated I still have not managed.

Now I stand at about the same point I met you at. Am I different from the way you were? What would I say had I met me two years ago?

Staring at that picture, I can imagine myself coming face to face with my past. Would I give myself advice? Would I question myself? Or would I sit back and listen to whatever I had to say?

Probably not much. I am so much moreinteresting now. I can't even look at that picture you have of me. That's not me! I keep protesting to myself as much as to you.

What do you think when you look at it? Do you look at it? Or is it merely a memory, simply remembering you have a picture of me from the day we met. A memory that evokes the recollection of that day we met. Which leeds to the memory of who we were and how we were and even how we wanted to be...