Baggage

I’m unpacking the relics of my life- those objects one compiles over a lifetime. It’s rather unpleasant to be buried under all of the physical and emotional baggage. As an example- see the featured image of a memory match game.

It is missing 18 pieces- only 14 pairs exist. I don’t want to keep it- I’m not going to play with it. I don’t want to get rid of it- I liked the game. Both choices are bad, but I don’t want to be a hoarder some day, so I need to do something.

If I’m honest, the only reason I still have this set is because I’ve avoided making a choice for years. There are just boxes and boxes of this stuff.

I guess that’s just how it is sometimes- we can only run from our pasts for so long before they catch us. No choice can be postponed forever, and no secret truly forgotten. I may as well accept it.

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