Burn…

As I go through another round of clearing out my past, similar to what I did before leaving for the Middle East earlier this year, I’ve decided to clean out my web server of all my ex’s things. It’s a challenging process, delving into memories of the past. I had hoped it would be easier, but I keep discovering things she uploaded after leaving me. Since the account now belongs to me, there’s no reason to keep these items, yet I find myself compelled to look at them. It’s painful to revisit memories of someone I still have strong feelings for, especially when I can’t change the past. While I tell others that I’ve moved on, I find that remembering the good times often leads me back to the painful ones.

Reflecting on my past, I recall a difficult period when my grandmother was dying. Despite her strength, it was heartbreaking to witness her decline. While I cherish memories of her resilience, my thoughts often drift to her final moments, when she was but a shell of her former self. I made the choice not to see her before she passed, but my cousin insisted, believing it was important to “pay my last respects.” This experience has made me question our fascination with death and the rituals surrounding it. Why can’t we remember the vibrant person they were, and why are we compelled to confront the stark reality of their demise?

I find myself struggling with this same dichotomy in my current situation. While I know there were good times in my relationship, I’m currently overwhelmed by memories of the bad. I long to focus on the positive moments, but it feels like a distant goal. Despite this, I’m hopeful that with time, I’ll be able to look back and remember the good times without being overshadowed by the bad.