June 26, 2002

little ammo box

I have an ammo box hidden away in my closet. Inside I have memories. Memories of things I never want to forget. Memories of things that have made an impact in my life that will last forever. Memories of people that will never know just what they meant / mean to me.

It always feels as though my heart is breaking when I open that ammo box. It has the best and the worst of my life stored inside. Diaries. Letters. Cards. Slips of paper I wouldn�t trade if someone offered me a million dollars for them..

I opened this box today looking for an old photo and got caught up in my past. I spent at least an hour sitting on the floor looking through it all in silence, caught up in a wave of emotion, almost on the brink of tears..

And I realized that it�s been almost two years since I�ve added anything to that box. Am I the only one that finds that depressing? What does it say about my current situation.. have I cut myself off so much that I don�t think anyone in my life is important enough for the box? Am I that emotionally dead inside?

I know that I�m not. Take Thor for instance, he was definitely important, meaningful enough to make the box.. so why have I kept him out? Why do I feel that including him would taint the sanctity of the memories within? I have no answers.

You want to know what�s worse? From the few people who have made it in there, only two are still in my life. They�re both reading this so let me just say this to them: I love you both more than you�ll ever know, even if I don�t show it, even if I distance myself from time to time. Andy, you will always have a part of me that no one will ever be able to touch.. perhaps that�s why seeing you face to face scares me. Russell, there have been so many times when you were my North Star. The only bright light around. I would drop everything if you ever called needing me.

Okay, enough squishiness for one night. I�m off to buy a sketch pad/paper journal.

Cheers kiddies.

7:09 p.m.

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