I’m thinking. I’m thinking because while cleaning my room, I came across things that didn’t matter and I came across things I wished I didn’t come across.I take it back.Those things did matter. They mattered very much. The things I wished were buried somewhere in a place where I’d never have to find them again. But then again, deep down I wished that there would be a valid reason for me to find them and hold them once again. That’s why I kept them.I kept them so I could look back and think about the joys of teen life, think about highschool and the things we did, and the laughter would still echo through my mind. I kept them so that I’ll have something that actually belonged to me. They’re MY memories. MINE. I kept them because I like to hold on to things that were in the past. because it reminds me how far I’ve come. and what I’ve been through. it reminds who was by my side when I needed someone the most. it reminds of loved and lost. it reminds me of happier, simpler times. Thats what I kept things that matter to me. things my dad refers to as ”junk”. He’ll never know how much my ”junk” means to me. how much I rely on them for hope. Thats why I didn’t throw them out as he asked to. I rebelled. I brought them in to the new house we just shifted to. I brought them against his will. against his mumblings that I have too much junk in my room. So I told him, trying not to sound like I have an”attitude’ (as I have been claimed to be having in the past). I told him, one man’s junk is another man’s Treasure. it’s not the exact saying. so I altered it a bit. just a bit though. the original was One man’s food is another man’s poison. So I make sense right. Its MY memories. It’s not junk. Its my treasures. I like holding on to the past. It’s not healthy. I know. but it’s not healthy only when you start living your life like it was in the past. I’m not doing that.I’m not living on to the past. Holding on to it is different.
Anyways, back to the nostalgic feeling this brought to me. I thought that I’ll be able to look back and smile. But I didn’t smile. nothing close to smiling. I showed no feeling. no positive feeling at least. my heart flipped as I went through all the papers, notes, pictures. So, now im sitting here wondering when I’ll be able to look through those things, my ‘junk’ , and not be sad. when will it be okay to reminisce and not feel sad about it? a year? two? twenty? probably. probably, long after i left it all behind. And maybe then, I’ll be able to reminisce happily. and not let a single sad tear fall down my cheek.