The Picture They Keep

 

The Picture They Keep

It’s hard to see yourself clearly

when everyone else swears they already do.

Families pass down their opinions

like hand‑me‑down clothes

that never quite fit anymore.

They babble from old stories and photographs,

from versions of you

outgrown decades ago.

 

Friends you once knew build stories

from a few scattered moments,

stitching them into something

that barely resembles truth.

 

And the relatives,

the ones who haven’t spoken to you

Or asked you anything real,

trade memories like collectable gossip,

pass them down like family lore

until their kids look at you sideways,

judging a person

They’ve never actually met.

 

Meanwhile, you’re thinking

That’s not me.

And hasn’t been me for a long, long time.

 

You want to explain,

not to beg,

not to convince,

Just to say I’ve changed.

I’ve grown.

I’ve worked very hard

to become someone

I can respect.

 

But how much life

Should you waste

trying to update the stories

in someone else’s head?

 

You realize the only picture that matters

is the one you’ve built

with your own hands,

your own years,

your own plans.

And whether they see it or not

doesn’t change the truth

of who you are now.

Let them go. 

wcd