#things keep going wrong

It happens more often than not when cleaning or organizing. I'll stumble across a cheesy valentine's day card given to me in third grade from a classmate, and I remember her vaguely from her voice and the trouble I went to pick out her card as well. I'll find the crumpled drawings of friends I don't know anymore from middle school. I have the toy a stranger gave to me when I was younger, one of the few things left over from the decluttering of toys and items I stopped playing with long ago.

My father tells me I should get rid of some of the cards that I've been given over the years, lying in a shoebox rarely pulled out. I cannot get myself to do so. There are quite a few from people I do not remember, yet I can't quite get myself to part with the bit of themselves they gave to me.

I look at screenshots from memes and text posts I found in middle school that still live in my google drive. I still remember giggling and sharing them with my friends, getting made fun of for forgetting to crop the pictures. I see the old references for drawings I wanted to make once upon a time and pictures of people I now consider strangers grinning with me ear to ear.

There are books on my shelf from someone I hate, right next to books I was given by relatives over the years. They all are about my interests, and I can't help but feel they have a little bit of love or thought in them despite the bitterness I associate with their covers.

In my head it's no different. There are good memories that I share with someone I cannot stand, and there are deep regrets for how I've treated the people I love, and there are whole worlds I've written with someone whose name I cannot remember.