Sometimes, you no longer know what you are grieving for. When you look back, all you see is a series of losses and heartbreaks. All the dreams you had to give up on. All the relationships you had to let go of. All the loved ones you will never see again. All the memories you will never relive. All the places you will never return to. Your childhood. Your innocence. All the versions of yourself you had to outgrow. All the times you realised that something you believed in so deeply was a lie. All the times you broke and never truly healed. All the endings that never came with closure, leaving you with nothing but doubt and confusion. All the experiences that you never got to live. That kind of grief never really goes away. You carry on with life as usual. You laugh, you experience beautiful moments, you feel joy and happiness. But sometimes, in the middle of living, it all comes rushing back at once. Every piece of it. It feels as though you are reliving the same pain all over again. I do not know if there is ever an end to it, or if it simply stays with you until the end. I often wonder about that. And yet, something within me whispers, isn't it an honour to have lived and loved so wholeheartedly that you have stories and people worth grieving for?