memories...in the corner of my mind

This is the last box from my dad. He is in the Philippines now and what is left from my life that I don't have with me is in an apartment in Germany and will end up being trashed by a stranger. It's possible someone will go through my things and keep a few things for themselves. I can only hope they don't speak English so none of what they find and maybe read through won't make any sense. It hurts.

I'm one of those people who NORMALLY says it's just stuff. I'm the person who said it'd be easier to throw out everything in my apartment and just start over. I'm pretty good at throwing out/donating clothes (when I can motivate myself to go through it all). I can easily let go of extra things I don't need (broken computer monitors, scrap yarn). I had no problem separating out things from the three boxes my dad did send me and put them in donation boxes. Not this time though. It's been hard to deal with the fact that part of my childhood is gone and I had no control over how it was let go.

It's like a part of me is missing. I have those memories, but they're fading. I didn't get the chance to refresh them. There were yearbooks and stationary and TONS of Hello Kitty things I'd collected over the years. *weeps quietly* A few items that by now are vintage that I could have sold for extra money. So much stuff, so much of me.

I'm kicking myself for not contacting my dad sooner. I would've had him start sending me back my stuff a lot sooner. Logically it seems silly, but I think it's going to take some time to get over it. I'm a little mad at my dad for leaving everything for someone else to rifle through, but I understand why it had to be that way.

*deep heavy sigh*

reading - Cinder by Marissa Meyer This post brought to you in part by: