There are some memories which are so visceral, so tangible, that they hardly count as memories at all. Memories are supposed to be in the past. Something you can move on from. But there are some memories which only grow more painful as time passes, because it reminds you of just how stuck in the past they are.

It forces you to realise they're gone.

When I think of those days, I realise just how conflicted I still am about what happened. On one hand, I would give anything to go back and relive every moment properly, instead of just laying in the dark, trying to remember the sound of her laugh, the smell of the fire, the warmth of his smile. On the other hand, however, nothing in the world could convince me to have to live through that again.

I'm thankful I have no choice.