FB Memories





Every time Facebook throws me a memory, it hits different.


There’s a soft joy seeing those old photos—places I once wandered, laughter I once held, moments that felt infinite.


But underneath that joy is a quiet ache.


Since the world paused, I’ve felt like I never really pressed play again.


It’s like I’m floating in a frozen frame—unreachable, unseen, untouched.


Time moves, but I don’t.


I’m walking through an endless hallway where every door is locked, where echoes keep me company and my own strength feels like a past life.


Some days, I feel like mist—vanishing slow, scattered by winds that no longer remember my name.

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