Why must bad things happen to good people; how much longer does one need to suffer until they're satisfied with the unchangeable us?

I push away the memories, I push them away with tears. So my longing heart could have this moment of relief, but even though I push away the memories, it never truly pushes away the pain.

I push away the memories, I push them away with tears. So my longing heart could feel a moment of relief, but even though I push away the memories, it never truly pushes away the pain.

This unchangeable grieving of never being heard, understood, or like others must be fate or perhaps it's my undoing.

We don't want to give up life, but we don't know how to live it either.

This unforgettable pain of grieving memories is like an agonizes disease that ripples through life without an end.