Its a work in Progress - Real Fiction

Mar 14, 2008 - 17:57 PM PST

Real Fiction

In my room, next to my overstuffed but hardly used closet, lie two blue photo boxes, no larger or smaller than the average shoe box. They are light blue, the best shade of blue. They are sturdy, strong, but not unable to bend.

In my room, next to my overstuffed but hardly used closet, lies two blue photo boxes, no larger or smaller than the memories I keep in them. They are filled with pictures of all sorts. They are filled with book covers and scraps of random paper. The things in my light blue photo boxes help me remember the things I want to forget, and the ones I never do.

In my room, next to my overstuffed but hardly used closet, lie two blue photo boxes. In the first box are my many pictures that have been collected over the years of my misinterpreted childhood. There are pictures of my grandparents and parents that make me smile and cry. They show the happy façade and the good times before the dark despair of death. There are more pictures, as I dig deeper into the depths of my memories of years past. I come across pictures of people, school mates of yonder years. I recall the names of few, and struggle to know if I ever knew any of them. There are smiles of naïve influences before we knew the world; real people portraying fake images to satisfy the undeniable urge to fit in.

In my room, next to my overstuffed but hardly used closet, lie two blue photo boxes. In the second box are words that make up dreams which allowed me, and others, to misinterpret my childhood. Quotes from famous people and book flood the depths of my imagination. Opening and constricting every part of my being. Dig a little deeper and my secrets start to show. Drawings and art from years before swim in the puddles of long forgotten ideas; hidden to mask the disappointment of many years ago. Still they are nothing more than dreams, with bright colors now fading but never truly there.

In my room, next to my overstuffed but hardly used closet, lie two blue photo boxes. Hidden by the façade, they are memories of stories never told; only imagined.


-Janine Grey