I used to be proud of my inability to hold onto bad memories. I considered myself to be so lucky for being able to think back to a person, an incident or a relationship, and only remember the good in them. After all, it's better than being forever tortured by painful memories, right?
I never thought that one day I would hate myself for that. I never envisaged a day where everything would be easier, if I had only stored the frowns instead of the smiles. I never expected to be searching desperately for the sad memories, but in vain.
I guess you just can't half everything in life.
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