When there's simply no going back, no matter how bad I want it.

They're gone. The pain travels with me through all the mundane days. A heavy burden that beats in my chest until it feels like it could explode. Days, months, and years go by. I try to numb the part of my mind that is refusing to forget. I delve into what I love but those traces of memory are left over everything. There is desperation to adjust, to adapt. Things will never be how they were. I'll never be the same. They're not coming back.

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Mamapolo2016 · F

No, they’re not coming back. Yes, it is painful. I live a lot of days in memories of them.

As I think of them, in memory, I realize again that they would not want me to curl up and die too, tempting as that sometimes is.

They are gone, but I still have a mission, to reflect them in things I say and do, because they are part of me.

If I fail them, let them truly and completely die, they are forever gone.