Sentimental Hoarder.

I was going through my past journals, compiling ideas that I'd written down and never actually initiated. I came across this diary entry, and I just felt like it still rang true. I'll probably elaborate more though.

I think in my mind, since I identify so many clothes with different periods of my life, I automatically think that if I take away the clothes, the memories will go with it.

It's the same with random doodads. And cards. And basically anything you can imagine. I just hoard them away with no thought of the consequences. 

But I've entered a new stage of my life now. And while I enjoy living in the past, I've also got to keep moving forward.

So I did it. I cleaned out my wardrobe, and while I felt like all the memories would be erased, the nostalgia and all-encompassing feelings I get when I think back, still remain.

It's the same with everything else - I've been cleaning out my desk and my books (again). One of the things I love most about having a diary that I allow to contain just about anything is that I can glue all these little souvenirs I've collected over time, and stick them in. It's great because a) I'm creating space for myself, and b) I'm still maintaining the little things that matter to me. For whatever reason.

Here's a peak at what I mean. Because really, it's the little things that keep you happy isn't it?

And while I'm starting to understand that you don't need to keep absolutely everything to remember, it's nice to. Just in a more compact manner.

I want to apologise. I've been busier these holidays than I'd imagined I would. I've been getting a few extra shifts at work (which is nice), am editing a friend's manuscript (which is taking up more time than I thought it would), and redoing my room (which is slowly making progress). What can I say? My holidays are never boring.