She went to look at the stack of stuff she would have to go through. Why haven’t they thrown stuff out along the way? Random discreet things just ended up all mixed in with one another. There was no way to use them for they were hidden, out of view, and out of mind. Even the things in plain sight were oblique.
It was a strange feeling trying to assess the value and worthiness of something, after having held onto it for so long. All she wanted to do was take a fork lift and throw ot all into a landfill. A landfill, already filled, with other broken dreams.
Categories: identity, mental health, photography, Psychology, society, women
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