The stickers I never used.

Last December, we took out that dusty box of memories hidden at the top of my parent’s cabinets.

MUSINGS

1/14/20263 min read

Last December, we took out that dusty box of memories hidden at the top of my parent’s cabinets.

It was there when we moved here 10/11 years ago and never got around to actually digging through it and sorting through.

This says a lot about me being a memory hoarder, I kept all these stickers I had since elementary school, somewhere around 20 to 23 years ago and the old films I never got to print. I packed it all up that time thinking, yes I love to move these things around with me, take it to my next life over in that new house.

You see, I grew up moving a lot of houses, we never had a permanent home (not until 10 years ago in our current house). That was decades of my parent’s marriage where we rent from one house to the next, living rent by rent by rent, moving blocks, and towns. I never had that childhood room where I know where something was placed and sleeping at night knowing it was just there and will be there for decades. I never actually memorized childhood bedroom ceilings and even put glow in the dark stars on it. My mother gave away my dolls and bears and books when I was in fifth grade. The only toy I have now is my giant teddy bear from my first birthday that I never got to play to with, still with plastic cover to fight off the dust. This is where it all began, with my parents. Cause in my life there isn’t some type of permanence and I was always afraid of things being lost, of never actually owning things.

The problem here is that I could take care of my inner child now, we want something, we get it, wherein, it is the pain of my teenage self that I think I could not heal. Having unearthed the stacks of stickers I never got to use, with their adhesive now obsolete. With my teenage self backlog copies of magazines, some old notebooks and journals, and now remembering the stack of pretty scrapbook papers I bought with my meager allowance back then, it was so so heartbreaking to see the wasted potentials.

With new journals and sticker sheets, and promises to actually use them, and you know what, I did use a lot of these last month, a little nod to my inner child. I bought my teenage self her dream camera, her dream fountain pens, art materials she never got to buy, art materials she had to keep using the lowest price of to get through college. I bought both of them the trinkets, the crystals, the flowers, the music/ cds and hand in hand with my adult self’s LPs.

It was hard to actually patch her heart, my teenage self.

Listen to "Black Hole" by Griff, specifically these lyrics:

“There's a big black hole where my heart used to be

And I've tried my best to fill it up with things I don't need

It don't work like that, no, it's not easy

To fill this gap that you left in me..”

Cause I never really got that love she longs for. My current adult self is fighting so hard to protect that scab of wounds that is still healing. The lack of body autonomy, lack of friends, the lack of funds, the lack of relationships and love life. Sometimes, I feel so strong protecting her, sometimes we both weep. Cause you know, this is never about those stickers.

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