nostalgia

day 165

Without ever looking at the definition of nostalgia in the dictionary, it's come to be so much of my life. I've been cleaning my room, and by cleaning I mean sitting on the floor looking through years of my life. I'm hopelessly nostalgic and though I would say I can let go of the past, I can't let go of memories. Or rather, I can't let go of the objects that conjure those memories. Going to college in a few short months, I won't be able to take everything, so downsizing is proving to be a difficult task. Plus knowing that I won't ever sleep in this room again (Lord willing I get my own home after college) is making matters even more difficult. Every little note, every little drawing and shirt and scrap of metal or rock smells of days and moments that I want to remember for the rest of my life, and I can't just let those items go like they mean nothing.

It's a sad state to be in, sitting on the floor surrounded by treasures others deem as junk, knowing that you won't even be able to take any of it with you after you die. It makes every single thing in life seem completely pointless, which is a good thing. All the people you wish you could be as good as, those that hurt you, the bad things in the world, none of that will matter because every person dies. The only things that matter are the things that stay after you die: your legacy. The things you make with your hands, the words you write, the art, the inventions, the number of people you touch, though you can't take those things with you, you leave them behind, and they end up being treasures for many instead of treasures just for you strewn across the floor.

I want my life to be a treasure for many.