Have you ever opened your closet and thought that there are too many unused things in it and then realized that your closet is filled with old things? I have the habit to clean my closet once in every two or three years. It sounds such a long time for someone's cleaning time, yes? Well, I rarely shop, so I don't have many new items in my closet. But the problem is now I have too many old stuffs in it. Letters from junior high friends, birthday cards from several years back, tons of photos [I don't have any digital camera back then], t-shirt from the renaissance period [which surprisingly still fits on me], scraps from the past that I feel still have some emotional attachments to me thus making it difficult to get rid all of it. I'm not a person who cannot swift from the past to the present being. I just love keeping some mementos. I remember I'd to take some time remembering the moment beneath an empty pack of cigarette before finally I got rid of it. Yes, it's hard to be a part with something [one] that has been there for as long as you can remember, especially if it's an ordinary stuff with an extraordinary meaning...that's what I feel.
The funny thing about that habit is that I experienced it not so long ago. Funny since my experience has put me in the old 'stuff' position. I was the old cigarette pack laying inside a shoe box waiting to be banished from history. Maybe it is only my personal prejudice towards this experience being banished from someone[thing]'s story. Maybe the banishment is not related to the fact that I'm just an old piece of something inside the shoe box waiting to be replaced by something[one] new in it. Yet I felt I was already thrown away to the dust bin and now ready to be forgotten soon enough. Sad thing is I don't know the reason. Maybe I should feel guilty because I cannot find a possible reason. Maybe I am guilty for some things that I had done in the past.
So now I am being banished from someone's story. Is that related to the fact that I'm just an old fragment? I have no idea. Or maybe it's just the end of me in this story? Should I question it? Will it make me feel better if I know the true reason?
One thing for sure though, it hurts.