Hika Mig

Monologue of Grief

An open store, an open building. Anyone can enter and find relief from pain, but entry costs more than a lifetime. Entry for a good memory—it's not fair, is it? Why should I sacrifice a good one to get rid of a bad one? It's impossible for me anyway; I have no good memories. I would so like to get rid of the memory that has ruined my life, because of it I cannot rejoice, be proud, laugh, because of it I cannot remember good things.

Insignificant, dirty, disgusting, ugliness, evil, death.
I can't think about anything good while this memory burns me from the inside, I want to get rid of it, I can't stand to see the smiles of those who come out of there. They are pure, they are happy, they are not in pain.
Only dreams can smooth out my memories; they're independent, they can be kind, or they can be on par with memories. I'd like to fall into eternal sleep so I can simply not feel this anymore.