Objects never mean anything to me, but sometimes they mean everything. I still have handwritten notes I passed to my friends in high school and I still hold onto my dead dog's collar. I've collected rare stickers and have promised myself I would never stick them onto anything just yet. I've kept every handwritten card my family and friends have ever given to me. If my house was burning I would grab all my photo albums, fuck the rest. I can't let go of the past! This collection of things makes no sense when I piece them together. I don't always know why I've held onto these specific things, but I can't let them go. Maybe it's because for me they are symbols of time, memories, and people. They are extensions of myself. When I feel lost, my memories hold me together. I haven't changed since birth. I still listen to the same 10 songs. The lyrics mean everything to me. I wrote them on the desks, chairs and tables. The vessels into time become significant as I grow older and more nostalgic. I worry that the time behind me will never be as meaningful as the time in front. But who knows for sure. I always have my memories.