They all had their pictures, they all had their photo frames, all neatly placed and organized on their desks in artistic and suave fashions pertaining to their own personalities. It confused me more that these tangible photos were an accessory to their online ones. Well, I can't say I didn't go without the picture frames; my aunt made sure I had two 5"x7" ones before they set me off, although my parents paid no heed to the utter personalization of my space. I knew because they knew.
I had no reason for picture frames, none really at all. At a young age, I made a point to avoid my picture being taken for good reasons I thought made me wiser than most. I can't say that is the case now, but I know they're reasons all the same. It ended up being all too easy in the end to shred those photos.
I tore them into bits and pieces when I got angry at people, and when I lost friends, I didn't need those photos anyway. So when I stood with no friends and no memories to capture because of this, it didn't matter. But in the end I found it fitting to set up my picture frames out of habit. And even though I stared at cardboard to remind me of home, it did it better than any picture could anyway.
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