The Anatomy of My Room, Pt II

Mood: groggy, but i've eaten already
Now Playing: Dare to Believe, Boyce Avenue

So what's all the hoo-ha about me posting pic (actual pic, mind you) about my room? Well to begin with, aside from the fact that i was incredibly bored, we must start with the fact that i am a very packey person. I tend to pack everything up. That's why cleaning is such a bitch for me because i tend to unearth so many things. I collect things like bottlecaps, candy wrappers, used wet wipes containers and a whole lot jumbo that sometimes.. hngh.

Anyway, where was I? I was rummaging through my cabinet when I found letters to myself. More of notebooks, really. I mean it was written on notebooks. And in between those pages, out slipped another piece of paper. It only had one line: "remember remember"

Hngh. Suddenly it felt as if the room folded itself, like years of forgetting have all turned on me.

Maybe that's why we hold on to things, you know? To remember shit. Because memory is faulty, and we need all of those cues to remind us how we lived back then, how much air in our lungs was. It's comforting to know that, there will always be a piece of the past to remind us how we lived by.

Yun nga lang. Sometimes i feel so suffocated. There is not a single thing in this room without memory, good or bad. Each little scratch on the furniture tells a hundred stories.

But... if you were to give me a choice between forgetting and remembering, i'd go remembering all the way. Not to say that i don't like forgetting, but isn't getting over the more proper way to deal with.. bad stuff? And for that to happen, i guess some semblance of remembering is in order. (Then dealing with it.)

And someday, all of this would be just memories too. That's why i'm pretty grateful to the past me for writing me all these letters. Don't worry future me. You'll have your turn.

But if i had my way, i'd sucker punch the 15-year old me. What, goddamnit, are you writing?