For the Days I Don't Remember

My walls are lined with pictures of people whose names I barely remember, but I remember that moment we stood in front of a camera and smiled.

Every morning is the same. I'll wake up to a familiar smiling face, and wonder if the smiles we're genuine or whether it was just a habit that cameras tend to bring out.

Either way, I continue to rack my brain trying to hold on to the fleeting memories. The pictures are the only proof that the moments happened, and the smiles are comforting.

But in the back of my mind, I am painfully aware of the force behind the smiles and I know that behind all the comfort is nothing but false memories.

And now my walls are lined with false memories, and the photo albums in the corner seem useless.

Yet, I still find myself holding cameras close to my heart, because on the days I don't remember, the forced smiles are always there.

And a part of me still believes that forced smiles are better than none.