Because it hurts to. Like reopening scabbed over gashes that bleed nostalgia so profusely.
Happiness.
Anger.
Despondency.
Regret.
What a fucking rush..
All things kept to remember better times & shitty ones.
A mess was/is my life. I cant let go of these things. Almost every bit of seemingly meaningless matter is significant to me. Old clothes, notes from high school, stickers, pictures, magazines, pins of bands i've almost forgotten about.
I can't let go. I can keep cleaning, but i'll just find a new way to pack rat this shit somewhere.
My room will ALWAYS be a mess.
& for the most part, i'm ok with that.
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1 comment:
Yay mementos!
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