Memories are never fully forgotten. Even the ones buried deep, deep down in the confines of our minds, waiting for the day when light is shed upon them and the threads in our brains become untangled. Memories, like our society, can become twisted—like shadows of past lives fading into the background. The question is: if these twisted memories are worth remembering in the first place?

The one clear thing he could recall even thinking throughout the entire mess is that he wished life was like a photograph, something that usually came to mind when his father hit him. That way—he had the power to freeze frame the moments that mattered and photoshop out the people that didn’t. But life wasn’t like that. Life wasn’t put together with still-frames and Polaroid cameras. Life was a movie, one that didn’t really ever end.