A familiar pain returns to the mind just as piercing as it was then. It is unwelcome, but pain never needed permission. God only knows how many days were spent masking the regret, burying the emotions, finally and definitively moving on. Yet a voice, a solitary auditory disturbance in that one, accustomed frequency unravels those grave clothes, and yesterday becomes very much alive, very much current and relevant and affecting.
It subsides almost as quickly as it came, resounding in your ears one last time, a final reminder that it will never truly be gone. It is as much a part of you as you are a part of it. Repression, suppression, forgetting, remembering: there are no techniques, no quick fixes to ensure freedom from the memories.
Your life is stained.
