In Addition

I'd like to make a statement based on my last post "Time Heals".

True, many things were trashed. I felt nothing, and I could scarce even recall ever having felt anything at all. HOWEVER.

There was a great deal that stayed in those cardboard boxes. That I ducktaped and in permanent marker, begged whoever may come across it someday to please take care and respect the privacy. The contents of that box...are priceless to me. They represent hours and years and tears and bloodstains on a dancefloor that essentially has built me, the person I am today.

In addition to the immense difference in feeling between what's in the trash bags and what's in the cardboard box, there is additionally, immense fear that I might one day lose the passion I have toward those memories. I do not ever wish to forget the wild ride I survived.