Unwritten Shadows of a Clouded Mind

Unstable Screams

There are moments in life that you wish you could bottle up and keep forever—moments that are so fleeting, so fragile, that you're almost afraid to breathe, for fear they might slip away. I have a collection of those moments, tucked away in the quiet corners of my mind, where only I can reach them. They are the echoes of a love that was never fully ours, but they are mine all the same.

I remember the way you used to look at me, not with the intensity of a lover, but with a kind of softness that spoke of comfort and familiarity. I held onto those glances as if they were lifelines, believing that maybe, just maybe, they meant something more than I dared to hope. There was a warmth in your smile that felt like home, a place I never wanted to leave, even when I knew it was temporary.

But memories are tricky things. They have a way of clinging to you, wrapping themselves around your heart like vines, making it impossible to move on. I find myself caught between wanting to let go and holding on to the memories that define me. They are my secret treasures, locked away in a vault that no one else can access, not even you.

There was the time we sat together in the park, the world around us fading into the background as we talked about everything and nothing. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over your face, and I remember thinking that I wanted to freeze that moment in time. I wanted to stay there forever, with you, in that perfect stillness where nothing could touch us.

And then there was the night we stayed up late, talking until the first light of dawn crept through the curtains. I don't remember the words we exchanged, only the feeling of being completely and utterly understood. It was as if the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving just us, suspended in a moment that I would later replay over and over in my mind.

But these memories—they are mine alone. You don't remember the way the light played on the leaves that day in the park, or the way your voice softened when you spoke of your dreams. You don't remember because, to you, they were just ordinary moments, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But to me, they were everything.

I want to let go. I want to release these memories into the void and free myself from the weight of them. But the thought of letting go terrifies me, because once they're gone, what do I have left? These memories are the last remnants of a love that never truly was, and if I let them go, I fear I will lose myself along with them.

So, I hold on, even as I know it's futile, even as I feel them slipping through my fingers like sand. I hold on because these memories are the only proof I have that we shared something, however small, however fleeting. They are mine, and no one can take them from me.

I wonder if there will come a day when I am ready to let go, when the weight of these memories no longer feels like a burden but a gift. But for now, I carry them with me, a silent reminder of what once was and what could have been. They are the echoes of a love that never truly found its voice, and I am the only one who can hear them.