Persona System

In the trash can...

1 diary filled with
-confessions
-thoughts
-letters
-pictures
-quotes
-phone numbers
-fears
-doubts
-fortunes
-advice given and taken

The diary included quotes from artists on the bottom of every page. I went through and typed out all the ones I thought were worth keeping. I typed out the jokes that are still funny six, seven, eight years later. I tore out a piece of paper with websites on it, all for goth clothing. I'm going to see which are still open.

I tore out all the photos and put them in a stack. One of our cousin Cole five years ago, one of our old friends Jessy and Sadie at the military ball, one of our dear friend Alex, her senior picture, and two of our ex. The only two we have of him. They aren't terribly flattering, but then he was never photogenic. Too many scars and broken noses, even if he did make all the girls swoon. There are other friends I wish we had pictures of. Carrissa and Sarah, who both have children now. Corrine, the first friend I had in this world, the girl who reminded me so much of Angeal. Anja and Albanie and the other girls we knew here in Texas.

I wish I had photos, so that I could put them in a box and sometimes take them out and say "These are the people who shaped our life. These are the people who mattered." I wish I could do physically what I've done with the memory of them, locking it away somewhere.

Our godmother gave us a little prayer book and a rosary pamphlet, and a small card. I'm keeping those, too. I know they're important to Farf, even if they don't mean much to me.

I took out a little card from the diary too. We've had it for nearly eight years now, I suppose. Maybe longer, maybe less. There's a fortune cookie paper glued to the top that says "Approach all areas of life with a bold enthusiasm." I used to. I want to again. The card itself has a bit of advertising garbage on it. But I always liked what it said.
"Imagine Your Self"
"A blank canvas. A clean sheet of paper. A long stretch of open road. This is the journey before the journey. The part where you get to have a say in the matter, before everyone else butts in and busts out the rulebook. Now it's up to you. Show everyone exactly what you're made of. Prove that you're not just another face in the crowd. Don't go unnoticed. And don't blend in. Life is what you make it."

There's a sagebrush branch. It still smells sweet. It still smells like home. But the scent has faded over the years. It isn't a clear as it used to be. It used to be like a sharp ringing bell, calling to mind all the images of loved ones, of friends, of hopes and dreams and a childhood that was never mine. Now the memories are as faded as this branch. I want to send it to someone. I want to send it to someone I care about, or someone I don't care about, or someone I hate. Anyone. I want to send it away to them and say "Look! This is the symbol of the place I used to call home!" I want to throw it in their face angrily, maybe. Or maybe show them how that home was as sweet and imperfect as this branch of sagebrush grown in the desert.

There's also eight letters from our ex. And that's where I stand at the crossroads. Maybe I'll read them one last time and throw them all away. Or maybe not. I'm afraid of doing something I'll regret. I've decided. I'm keeping two of the letters. The rest are going in the trash. That relationship is over. It's been over for a long time. I don't need it anymore. I don't need any of that anymore.

I'm not going to keep living in the past. I can't let it keep consuming me. I can't keep clinging to long-expired dreams and half-forgotten memories. This is it. This is the end of the past and the beginning of the future. I might not have those old friend by my side anymore, the ones from the photographs. But I have new friends. I have a new life.

Loves, I'm thinking of you. I want to move forward. Move closer to you, and further from the things holding me back.

-Sephiroth