Something small happened recently.
A family member casually compared me to my sister.
It wasn’t harsh or dramatic; it was one of those typical lines we’ve all grown up hearing.
They said it and moved on, but my mind didn’t.
It replayed the moment while I was brushing, cooking, working, as if that single comment held some deeper truth.
Meanwhile, the happy memories from the week stayed quiet.
Isn’t it strange?
The joyful memories need a trigger, but the uncomfortable ones show up on their own.
A comparison, a tone, a small comment — these tiny things stay far longer than they deserve.
