It's been going on for years. The battles, the trench warfare.
The memories are there, good memories. Ones where my daughter is growing up, my wife is healthy. We all have a huge love for each other. We're happy. Those times were one of the very few times when I was happy in life. In fact the most happy I'd been.
Yet today they're stained with pain. Wife dying of chronic illness after many years. Daughter dragging me into court after she died, and me booting her out of home over it. A friend killing herself in the midst of that. Trying to keep going only to be hit again and again.
Today even the best memories hurt. In fact they probably hurt the most, because they remind me of how good things were. How happy we were. I still can't look at the box of photos on the lounge room shelf. It's just too painful to do so. Sometimes I remember how it was during that brief period. It reduces me to tears.
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