shhhrifft

I ripped up some pictures this morning. That's about the sound they made. I rip junk mail apart. I rip bills apart. I rip old receipts apart. I don't usually rip pictures. As a matter of fact, I don't usually get rid of pictures in general. Most of my frames have one or two older pictures behind the showcased one. I even have one picture of my cousin and I that I think is horrendous, but instead of getting rid of it, I just have it turned backward in the family album flip frame. It may not look nice, but it's still us-- and sometimes we just don't look all that great.

Even on the random occasion that I do dispose of a snapshot, I usually just throw it away in one piece. I never really thought about this until I ripped the first picture this morning. I heard the sound it made, saw the ragged fibers along the newly made edge and it gave me a sense of power-- of freedom from this silly little reminder of a silly little event. I even ripped a couple pictures right along the silhouettes of the people inside. I almost kept a ripped fragment of myself but threw it away. I did, however, keep a ripped fragment of another friend. I may throw it away eventually, just to forget the moment all together. I may not.

It's funny how sometimes the things we want to hold on to we have to pin down like Peter Pan's Shadow and yet, the things we want to walk away from the most cling closer to us than a heavy fog.