Secret treasures left to find.

I was cleaning my room today and I found all different things, you know the clothes you lost years ago, that pair of earrings that you accused your family of taking. And then I found some memories, ones that I tried to forget. A box of moments collected together, the only common factor being me. There were pictures of all the places I've been, the people I knew and the things we did, cards, decorated shirts, pencil cases we graffitied. I forgot about some of the friends I had, which sounds terrible, but I told myself not to remember. Somethings are better left alone.

I always keep photographs around, pictures of my dogs, my family so it can help me remember when I felt better, when life was all sitting at Grandma's table, drinking from our special tea cups and having cucumber sandwiches. But now I understand why my aunt forgets names and what was wrong with my Grandpa. It isn't pretty but you cant have happiness without knowing the feelings of sadness, regret and pain. It's like a scale, but you can never get a perfect match setting.

I was cleaning my room today and I found all different things, but most of all I found all different parts of me.