The price of memory

There is a thing in movies and TV shows and in books where despite everything that the protagonist does, every action taken. Despite it all, the person they love is killed or dies. And it destroys me each time. It rips my chest open and for a minute it’s like the door is opening again and I see her, laying there, dying all over again. Every time.

No matter how much time passes, there are things that will trigger me back.

I’m torn between wishing I don’t experience that again and never wanting to get to the point where I feel nothing.

Because if I feel nothing, I will have lost that last piece of her.

But I also don’t want the person I love now to get the impression that I somehow love them them less. I love madly, deeply, completely. And I love you.

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