Memory after a memory, some I remembered, some I did not.
They belong to a time where everything seemed to be perfect. My parents still loved each other, ruled over a kingdom together, my sisters and I were given the attention we deserved.
Most of the memories were of those times, and I enjoyed them the most. They gave me joy, they gave me hope of a time that I might also go through them.
I wanted to go through them because they made me happy. It was wonderful, wonderous though on how I had seemed to forget almost all of them. They had been forgotten with time yet were coming back to me now.
There were, however, some of the memories that I did not understand. In fact, none of the people in those memories for people, I actually recognised or had ever seen in my life before. They were complete strangers and somehow it felt like they were not my memories.
