Polaroid

I don’t remember everything being this grey at night.

And everything feels so still, like a black and white photograph, an image frozen in time. I feel if I move even an inch, the whole world around me will shatter as that still frame photograph is ripped apart into pieces.

I just feel so empty, and so unbalanced, as if I’m actually made of just a thin sheet of paper, so brittle I could fall apart by one touch.

I feel sick; not physically, but mentally. I know something’s not right, like I’m missing something, but I can’t tell what it is; it must’ve been torn out of the picture.

I want to tape my fragile life back together, but I don’t know how. I don’t even know what’s wrong.

Maybe I’ve been overexposed, left out in the light to long, or even quite the opposite, I’ve been in the dark too much. Maybe I’ve used the wrong aperture, or maybe I’ve been looking through the wrong lens.

Perhaps, I could go back and fix my problem; the only thing is I don’t know a goddamned thing about photography.