A Stagnant Snapshot

It’s later than usual.

I find images circulating through my mind of things that never happened, of people I once knew. Everyone is recognizable, playing out how I remember them in my head.

I’m sure they’re not like this at all anymore, but a memory stands the test of time.

I can’t know for sure the people they have turned into. I still can’t figure out if the me that I can see is from the past, or the version that exists today.

That makes me think I haven’t changed much in ten years.

I know that’s a lie.

I wonder if their impression of me has changed over time, or if the memory of that is also etched into time itself.

A stagnant snapshot of what once was.

No matter how much I change, it will persist.