i once read

that once someone files a piece of paperwork away,
there's about a 90 percent chance that that person will never look
at that thing, ever again.
i know that in my own life to be totally untrue.
i've looked through everything.
more than 10... 15 times...
every time i move.
sometimes when i hole myself in.
i even dig in other people's things.
often times i like to totally rearrange my life.
even my filings.
things i've pushed off to the wayside.
reinvestigate who i used to be.
where i came from... where i'm going.

there's like this perpetual question or lingering thought...
are we one thing, ever?
we are never one thing.
there's seemingly no beginning to influences.
you're never yourself.
and to me, that's absolutely comforting.
i love not knowing exactly who i am or where i'm going.
i hope that never changes.

so, yeah, i've hung onto some things from long long days past.
old love letters.
first works of art i've ever made.
trophies.
music boxes.
books.
photographs.
to me, my childhood is pretty damn embarrassing to look back on.
i cringe.
up until art school i was highly unsure of my place in the world.
i was always... quirky, depressed, annoyed, weird, strange...
unsociable.
lots of things have shaped me
into this person with gumption.
balls of steel.
yet still totally unsure and with a set of diverse plans in my pocket
that would totally confuse anyone.
i've lost.
i've loved.
i've been split in half.
but for some reason
i'm not breaking anymore-- for anything.
and you can't make me.
and even that's a lie and a truth in itself.