I'm cleaning my room, and it brings up so many sad memories.
The fact that I have so many things my parents bought for me which I had silently put away, when I feel like I should have thrown them out sooner. Keeping them almost feels like keeping my old identity, keeping silent, keeping trapped. I feel like so much time was lost, so much time that I could have spent being myself, so much time I could have spent with some semblance of a happy childhood. I keep having dreams were I'm a little girl, and I always end up crying when I wake up. I don't really know why it gets to me so much, maybe all those feelings of anger and feeling lost and alone just come back to me.
I feel like I'm not crying for myself, but for someone else for some reason. Maybe the reason these things make me feel the way they do is because they look like they should have had a happy child playing with them, but they've just sat there, I don't know.
/end rant
Anyone get what I'm saying?