(Saved: the only letter I have from Layne. Reluctantly discarded: junkie poetry from Rae, letters from long-gone loony-bin friends.)
I have a tendency to carry my life on my back, like the junkyard Muppet from Labyrinth. I need to not. I need to not be drowning in pieces of who I was ten iterations ago.
I've got a very full trash bag right now, in addition to the one I filled from my office yesterday. My closet is up next, but not today.