TW// The following post discusses sexual assault/abuse and the trauma that comes along with it.
Memories. Everyone loves them. They’ve been painted with rose-colored glasses on, with pastel pinks and perfect brush strokes. That one time you made the best love of your life.. that one time with your friends you’ll never forget… that one time you cuddled with your mom like you were a kid again… that one time. Memories. They’re just invasive parasites to me. I mean, not all memories, of course, but the bad ones seem to be more invasive than the good ones. They’ve left me only with a sour feeling about them now. Even ones I don’t remember seem to haunt me.