Once we were happy. Once upon a time we were a family. Now that's gone. Nothing left but a unpleasant memory. Perhaps the product of nightmare, an unhappy dream. Only the memories prove that it's real. Only the memories prove this was my life. Luckily, memories never tell. Luckily, memories can be left to the vast areas in the mind full of tortouus memories we wish to forget. No one need know. No one need know our faults or our short comings. No one need know the horrors of our past.
