lyricalrosa:

[ ♫ ] — ❝Do they — Do they really?❞ she’d wonder quite uncertain herself; weren’t memories just another painful reminder of what was gone? Sure, they were nice to remember and even weaved a smile on her face most days, but in the end it was these same memories that caused so much pain and kept her from moving on.

    However the taller female remarking that she knew why made the pianist rather curious to know as well. ❝Why so?❞ she’d ask.

               It was foolish to live constantly from memories, she was aware of that, but once in a while she’d abandon herself to them. Whenever she felt particularly lonely or homesick, because it was good to remember she did have a home and people who to call family.

— ❝ Because sometimes it’s nice to remember that you did live better times. They can bring a smile in the saddest days and ease your loneliness if you ever feel lonesome.❞ 

               It was a bit hard for her to explain it. She clinged to memories quite often, remembering the Donquixote Family and her brother, because that was all she could do. Monet couldn’t tell anyone about them, she couldn’t voice how much she missed them, so their memory was all she had left.