The man behind the pictures...

I spent some time today, cleaning out my closet when I found a collection of pictures that I kept since I was in high school. They're all I have left of what was once my days as a high school student and now, as a college student.

The pictures I liked looking at the most was the group shot of my entire class in college for the Mass Colympics. I went through each and every face, reciting each and every one of their names in my head. They were my diploma class and they were probably the most fun bunch of people to hang out with. I'm sure that if they'd look at the picture (I made copies for them) they'd be thinking all about the whole day and trying to do the same thing as I was; naming everyone in the picture.

But there's one thing missing. I'm not in it. Not one single picture has me in it, not a single group photo, not a single action shot, not even a single picture of me with my friends in it. It was the curse of the photographer; always being the one to take part in the activities but never in any photos, never in any of the memories of those who were also there that day.

This brings me to the gist of my post: Who am I? I am the man behind the pictures, the man who'll always remember the days but not be remembered himself. I am the man who will disappear from your memories with each passing moment, because I am cursed to be this way. I am the man who will never be named, because I'm not in the picture, I'm the man behind it.

And I will be forgotten...