There are times in your life when the need to look back in the past is so overwhelming, you just can't help it. The need to reminisce, to revisit old memories. It comes crashing, and is so urgent that suddenly you find yourself scraping to find the key to open the box you have long closed. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you're not supposed to do it, that it isn't right, but still you're desperate to reopen the box. To reread the conversations. To rewatch the movements, the particular moments.

Most of the times it's wee hours. And slow-beat, mellow music is playing faintly in the background.

And you either feel terribly relieved when whatever little left is finally released. Or you dig the hole deep when all the long-forgotten feeling overwhelms you in a heartbeat.

You know though, it's a risk worth-taking.

You either spend the night sleeping the tightest it's ever been, or being wide awake, and thoroughly sad and drowning in it.
Most of the time, though, the following morning your shoulder feels a little lighter and the world a little brighter.