Six months since, yet the echoes never fade. The shadows draw near, the memories linger. The pain’s smeared like fresh ink on paper — it hasn’t dried. And with each passing day, I feel haunted. The memories are alive — real, brutal, breathtaking, painfully sweet. It’s consuming, it makes me want to scream. Somebody help me. But when silence is loud, no one can hear you. They see your smile, but not you drowning. They see the laughter, not the mask. In the end, you’ve got you — and you alone. So you have no choice but to pick yourself up.