It’s hard. Still.

It’s hard. Still.

No matter how many years you’ve been away from your home, every time you leave your house it still hurts the same. Your heart is still as heavy as the first time you left so is your legs. Your throat is sore, all the water droplets in your body who once wanted to be a part of your blood suddenly want to get transformed into tears. No other inertia you’ve learned was this powerful.

You can’t help but think of all the things that you’ve missed and the ones you’re going to. The only hope is that the next time you return, you’ll have some stories to share they didn’t already know and they’ll also have some for you.

It’s simple logic, to double the number of memories, you have to make the memory sets disjoint. Still, it’s hard.







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