Time

It still hurts when I am passing by it, the shared memories of this place and the emptiness of it now clawing at my heart and pulling each string one by one the hollowness of it all looming on my shoulders like a shadow following you in the dead of night. People say that it gets easier with time, that time is the best healer and you have to get over it sometime but the worst part is you do. You do get over it slowly, you start forgetting those little things, you start feeling as a whole again, you start forgetting that with them a part of you left too, you start forgetting their birthdays, you start forgetting their presence, you start forgetting them. The worst part about being dead rather than dying is being forgotten and we all do just that we forget them. Time makes us forget them, time doesn't heal no it just passes by and with that the memories pass by too. With time the days you used to live for become just another day in your life, but then you remember, you remember them by their laughter, or the joke they used to make or their favourite dish or their favourite music, you remember them again. You remember that feeling of once being whole, you remember the comfort of them being right beside you, and you remember that they existed and you cry. You cry because you can't feel them anymore, you cry because you remember you once had them, you cry because you feel vulnerable and then you tell yourself to be strong so that you don't have to feel that ache in your heart again you tell yourself to be strong so that you don't have to feel like someone is clenching your gut and is breaking you piece by piece you tell yourself to be strong so that you don't feel again and you forget, you forget them and just like everyone else they pass into nothingness.