Cleaning out my Closet

People have different ways of dealing with painful pasts, unforgettable occasions and glorious moments. They frame it, they hide it away or display their magnificent trophies.

In this season of perpetual hope, I thought it'd be a good time to clean my room and rid it of all unnecessary things. My room speaks volumes about it. It's chaotic and there are boxes you're not suppose to open if you don't want your innocence taken away from you.

As I set out on the almost impossible task of downsizing the volume of junk, it became a trip to memory lane instead. Pictures of old friends and stuff in high school that I'd rather forget, old comic books I failed to return, PS1 games I've spent countless hours trying to perfect, love letters I never gave out (which is a good thing), review materials for the board exam (I've never seen it until now), the small pillow Che gave me (the old c-cube sleeping days, I'm keeping this), unfinished documents on how to solve world hunger (the whole plan is dependent on having the whole of England converted into a farming land), a stack of FHM magazines (a lot of issues missing thanks to Ryan, the compulsive liar), cellphone accessories that I never got to use, Ragnarok prepaid cards, cellphone prepaid cards, ball caps I never use (my hair is sensitive), a damaged pellet gun, oil pastels, rusty dumbbells (that explains a lot), figurines you keep getting during exchange gifts (good for target practice), unused condoms (I hope I don't have a kid somewhere), a corked test tube of stolen potassium permanganate (the stain makes your skin look bruised), used up batteries (worth a fortune) and finally a number of insect eggs.

Every thing's tidy now... Yet I couldn't help but feel that I threw out a few of my memories along with it.