I remember quite vividly how hard I bawled that one night when I put away all these little keepsakes; how, at this very same spot, back when it was nothing but an empty basement with an old couch, I fell asleep crying, lingering on the sweet memories of the past that at the time brought me endless pain; I remember how at that time, I promised myself not to open the small box that contained all the remnants of the past two years, at least all that remained, all that I managed not to throw away.
I told myself I would keep it hidden, away from my prying eyes and eager hands; away from that part of myself who wanted to relive those happy moments–even just in my mind, in my memory; away from myself who did not want to let go. It would be locked away until that day comes when I would no longer crave for the experience of anything–pain, or joy, or hurt, or gladness–anything that reminds me or connects me to that same person.
For the longest time, I found myself unable to stop the tears that flowed at the thought of seeing all that remained from my failed relationship, and the irony at how the smallest and littlest of things enclosed inside that box were representative of the biggest turning point in my life, how those little keepsakes that, practically speaking, are insignificant and of no realistic value, became the most valued reminder of my reality, did not escape me.
Those were all true until tonight, when for the first time in what seemed like forever, I found myself smiling at the thought of all the cute little moments those items carried with them; I found myself not bitter, or regretful, or resentful; instead, I felt quite fond of the memory, as if I was looking at a photo album that contained images of my past, recollecting what the stories are behind the pictures, with a kind of ease and peace of mind that was not present before.
Looking back, I wish I kept more things–photos, receipts, movie tickets, and what not–just to have something to look back on and remember the fun stories, the good old memories, those fleeting moments that were a huge part of my life at that time. From tonight on forward, (at this very same spot, which is no longer just a barren basement but my very own room fully equipped and furnished allowing maximum functionality LOL), I will remember how liberalizing it felt to be able to reread those letters and to see those sentimental items without any trace of hurt or regret. I learned that after some time, (and gosh , it took quite a long time!) you will reach a certain level of emotional and mental freedom to the point wherein there remains no room for any heartache or pain, anymore–all that you’re left with are a bunch of fond memories and ancient history.