I'm putting these and one other thing in the ivory box next to my Chronicles of Narnia set, on the top of my bookshelf. Perhaps I was a fool to think they meant anything at all; perhaps I'm an even bigger fool for thinking that I did. I suppose it shouldn't matter now. I keep telling myself it doesn't, and I know I'm the only one actively suffering. Suffering at all, really. So I'm putting them away. I cannot bear the thought of getting rid of these three things, but I also can't keep them around as reminders of all the things I didn't mean and wasn't worth. They only serve to make me more sad than I already am.
Maybe one day I'll open the box and reflect fondly on the things inside, or perhaps I'll find the resolve to get rid of them. I doubt that, however. So in the box they go.
And they will wait and wait in that space.
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