It doesn’t knock.

It doesn’t ask.

It just slips through the cracks.

 

A smell, a song,

a street corner,

and suddenly — you’re there again.

 

The world tells you:

move on, fix it, let it go.

 

But memory isn’t broken.

And neither are you.

 

Some things aren’t meant to be fixed.

They’re meant to be carried —

like stones in your pockets,

like names etched into your skin.

 

The ache,

the love,

the story—

 

all of it,

still alive inside you.

 

Memory doesn’t heal all wounds.

It doesn’t tie everything up in a neat little bow.

 

It reminds you.

 

Of what mattered.

Of who mattered.

 

Of how deeply you loved,

and how deeply you still do.

#abdlent #ANPC