Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Today I did something that I've meant to do for a long time: I burned this box of notes from friends I've saved ever since middle school.

This is a different kind of blog post for me to make here. I don't want it to come across as negative, because this is a really positive thing for me! Cure Touch is my happy place, and this is something that makes me happy.

I've had these notes for over fifteen years. I haven't read them in almost as long, so I don't remember what a single one of them says. Their content would probably puzzle (and/or embarrass) me today; I don't think reading them would take me down a happy memory lane, but I doubt they're all that bad, either. Their content is not really the point, though.

It isn't the notes themselves that are bad -- it's the memories that I have about that time in my life. It's not just the notes I've been holding on to, but old scars. This box is symbolic of emotional baggage that I held on to for far too long.

I've been wanting to dispose of them for a really long time. But I've always felt that when it comes to these notes, I would need to burn them. Just ripping them up or throwing them away would not feel complete enough for me. But it was easier to just keep them stuffed away in my closet than take the step to build a fire just to burn them.

It's possibly silly to treat them with any kind of drama or importance, and after I had put several into the flames, I did feel a bit silly.

But I also felt great. I really did feel like an old burden was kicked away. If my adult self didn't really need it, I think my thirteen-year-old self did, and my adult self still felt lighter. Symbolic pain needs symbolic treatment. I'm glad that I watched this old baggage disappear. Mentally and physically, it's good to let this old stuff go.


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