tightrope of memories

Some days are harder than others, and lately, they’ve all been steeped in a heavy, melancholy fog that wraps itself around my mind like a comforting, yet suffocating blanket. I find myself drifting between moments of fleeting joy and the crushing weight of reality. It's as though my brain is engaged in a bizarre tug-of-war, trying desperately to convince me that the absence of a loved one can be glossed over, only to snap back with a jarring reminder that the death did happen—raw, unyielding, and impossibly real. Each day becomes a balancing act on a tightrope of memories, where happiness is a fleeting whisper behind the cacophony of grief, pulling me into its depths when I least expect it.