Why am I so sentimental?
I have a goodsized box full of photos and letters and odd bits from past relationships. I wish I could put actual things in there, like the song I'm listening to now. The smell of patchouli.
I do it too, although I don't keep them in a box. They end up everywhere and vanish until I'm busily packing or doing something important and there it is, a reminder of what was and won't be again.
Usually I get misty-eyed for a bit, squirrel it away somewhere and get back to work. Sometimes I just get angry, but that depends on the former relationship.
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