Memories, that's all it was. Just memories.
Memories that made me who I am today.
Memories of those days long gone, the memories that I am so fond of.
Times when it felt like the days seem simpler, only now I realise that they weren't.
The more and more I remember, I realise that the good memories had hidden the bad and ugly.
My past wasn't as free and wonderful as I thought to be, after all, all those instances are what made me the broken person I am today.
Seems that even my memories are filled with lies, the lies of a child.