You couldn't erase the past. You couldn't even change it. But sometimes life offered you the opportunity to put it right.
She'd cried over a broken heart before. She knew what that felt like, and it didn't feel like this. Her heart felt not so much broken as just ... empty. It felt like she was an outline empty in the middle. The outline cried senselessly for the absent middle. The past cried for the present that was nothing.
The present no matter what I brought couldn’t change the past. The Past was set and sealed.
I allowed myself to suffer how jarringly destructive the present feels and how fragile the past.
You carry your past with you even if you don't remember any of it.
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