Remember To Feel Real
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Sometimes when I am cleaning my room, I come across something that I want to throw out, but I can’t, for the life of me, do it.
That always happens to me. /hmph More often than not, it’s something that is of sentimental value. Which probably seems acceptable, until you get to a few things.
James and I prefer gelato to ice cream. There’s less fat and more water. We used to eat it every week. It was a little expensive though. And I kept all the little plastic spoons each time. Maybe that’s a little sad. But I rinsed them and washed them and kept them in a little container.
It’s things like these that I really should throw out but I don’t. :P
About five years ago, I started keeping a “Memory Box”. It was just a cardboard box. I filled it with all these little things that meant a lot to me. Some little notes from friends, some photos and other things that just meant something to me.
I had to move all the stuff into a new box when it no longer fit. But I still kept adding things to it. Usually they came up after I cleaned my room. Instead of pondering for hours what to do with these “things”, I tossed them into the box.
About two years ago, I stopped putting things in it. I don’t know why. There was less to put in. Things meant less to me.
About two years ago, I had gone through a rough patch. We all go through rough patches. But now that it’s in the past, I’ve kept it there. I don’t like bringing up something from the past that hurt or tore me up. Things stay in the past for a reason. They’re there because they happened, and there isn’t anything you can do to change that.
Don’t dwell on what might have been.
When I went through that tough time a few years ago, I stopped “collecting” memories. I stopped saving them and trying to remember them with physical, material aids. Hence, I stopped putting things in my Memory Box, because there was nothing I wanted to remember.
About two years ago, my Memory Box started to get full and I couldn’t find another box to replace it. I tied it roughly with a ribbon, and to this day, haven’t opened it. It collected dust, and sat behind my record player speaker for a long time.
But you can’t run away from your past. Even if I had burned this box, I still remember everything inside it. I still remember the moments I cried, the moments I laughed, the moments I was angry, the moments I was sad, the moments I was happy.
Now I think that you can’t totally depend on materials and “things” to remember. I don’t think you can have memories solely based on something you’ve kept or collected from the past.
Sometimes memories are pushed to the back of your mind, and their remembrance is fuelled by something else – something you do, something that happens. I think that memories – true memories – are ones that stay in your heart and ones you don’t ever forget.