Memory is a gentle torture, forcing me to relive my own cowardice in every conscious moment.

Writing has become my last refuge, and also my greatest prison. I thought writing these stories down would quiet them in my heart, but the opposite happened. Words make everything clearer, so clear I can no longer lie to myself.

With each piece I finish, I understand more clearly that some losses, no matter how they're remembered, cannot be recovered.

These words won't bring redemption. They only prove that I once truly loved, and truly lost.