Growing up, our childhood felt like a series of disconnected snapshots, each fading into the next like a worn-out photo album left in the sun. We often daydreamed, retreating into a world of imagination whenever life became overwhelming. Our memories mix laughter and shadows, bright moments clashing with darker ones that we still struggle to piece together. There were days when we ached to feel loved, surrounded by the warmth of family and friends, and nights when we were alone, but the walls still felt too close, and we learned to dissociate, to drift away from the hurt. It was like pressing a pause button on our emotions, creating a safe space in our mind where the chaos couldn’t reach us. We would close our eyes and imagine we were somewhere else, somewhere safe and happy, where love was the norm. Love had never lived at our house,
As the years went by, specific memories faded, like the edges of a dream upon waking. Faces blurred, events twisted into something unrecognizable, yet the feelings lingered, echoing in our hearts. This reminds us of how much of what we do, and what we remember is a protective barrier we built to shield us from the pain.