...

Sometimes, when I find myself cornered within the dark recesses of my mind, I see a little girl all alone and afraid. Even after all these years, she is still afraid, still scared of being abandoned, still scared of being left behind. 

I (paralleling that girl) am filled with trepidation for the loss of sweet memories. But with these sweet memories come dark times, and with the perpetual tick-tocking of the clock, I cannot help but become quiescent when I remember these memories. I fear that they will grow numb, but sometimes being numb helps so very, very much.