Daryl sometimes misses the times before the walkers. His life wasn't perfect, but it was simple. He knew when to avoid the house, he could navigate Merle's moods the same way he learned how o deal with his father. He knew when to keep his mouth shut and when to swing a fist. He knew how to talk to cops and how to keep a low profile. He was poor, ignored and mocked; but he new how to live n that world. He missed that certainty of knowing what the day would bring and what would happen.

He sometimes misses those early days after the outbreak. After the initial shock and panic and all the death. After he learned the new rules and new order. After he learned to always shoot them in the head. After getting to the quarry. After the people there started to appreciate his hunting skills.

He misses those couple of weeks after they left to find a new safe spot, when people were still wary of him, but valued his skills. When he didn't have to make an effort to get to know them to know he still had a place.

He misses those days before they lost Sophia, before he started to truly care. Before he started to want to make an effort. Before he realized he didn't know how.

He misses those days when it was all about survival and not all about her.

He wants, but he doesn't know what. He dreams of more, but he doesn't know how to get there. He tries and he fails...

And much to his own surprise, she's still there, with her soft gaze and teasing smile.

He picks up the jug that he dropped and they walk back to the church like nothing ever happened.

He will try later, try better, try different.

Like he always does.