A phone is like a pocket diary. You are there, your life is there. But when there is already someone new in your life, why keep pictures with someone old? Or is it just a habit? 🤔 Well, like an old T-shirt that you don't wear anymore, but it is so soft that it is a pity to throw it away. Only with people it is all somehow more complicated, isn't it?

I caught myself thinking that I also keep old photos on my phone. Just not of my exes. But of myself. Of myself with others. Of myself “then”. And it seems like it’s about me, but at the same time, it’s also “not me”. And so I don’t delete them. Because I’m afraid that if I delete them, it’ll be as if nothing happened. But it did. It did, right? 😌

Maybe it’s the same with men. They just don’t admit it. Maybe a photo isn’t about love, but about an echo. A reminder that they know how to be with someone. To be needed. Or, on the contrary, that they needed someone. Or maybe it’s just laziness. Yes, the most common human laziness to press “delete” 🗑

And yet, if a person is next to you, but someone else lives in his memory, it’s like you’re sharing a bed with a ghost. Smiling, photogenic and very silent 👻

Sometimes I want to understand - is there something wrong with me? Or do I just expect too much from people? Is it really true that in order to start something new with someone, we are not obliged to free up our inner gallery? Or is life, like a phone, always a little more memory for the old?

Natasha🖤