Today I cleaned out my closet.. there were boxes of memories I’ve kept since 6th grade. Books, notes, song lyrics, band t-shirts, class pictures, scrap books, perfumes, contact books, diaries, business cards and lists of crushes, books I wanted, places I wanted to be in, and people that hurt me; physically and or emotionally. I don’t know why I’m so sentimental..
I kept some stuff, and put everything else in a box to throw away, or to dig, or burn..
I had a list of all of those boys that bullied me, when I read it I remembered how each one of them did it, the torture.
I used to wake up every morning to see this lovely boy who used to sit next to me in class.. I have to admit I never tried so hard.. my hair was a mess in a boy haircut, and I always looked unwelcoming and I was very very quiet; I was shy. I used to stare at his perfect face.. he looked like jimmy my imaginary friend. One day he asked me why I kept staring? And why I always asked him if he wanted half of whatever I had in my lunch box before lunch.. so I told him, he looks like Jimmy, my imaginary friend that I don’t see anymore. (honestly I used to think it was him..) he touched my hand … and just smiled holding it.. as he bit some of my peanut butter jelly sandwich.. his friends then came.. and teased him.. he then slapped me.. and pushed me.. and said that I was the ugliest thing he’s ever seen.. (the push hurt) he always found a way to hurt me after that moment..
other stories and indicidents came running back to me..
So I asked my nanny to throw away that box of painful past away..