2009-08-03 / 4:27 p.m.

Cleaning out my room. I've thrown away so many memories in the past year. I thought it might be too difficult to let things go just like that. The things I keep are so sentimental to me - treasure. Trash to others.
I began clearing through the clutter months and months ago when it became difficult to sleep in this room at night because the room felt overcrowded in past memories that clung to overrated clutter.

About three, maybe four years ago, we studied a poem in English class. I still have the piece of paper on which I wrote it down. I've held onto and I can't even begin to understand why. It just seemed harder to rid myself of the longer I kept it.

It has to go now too.

"In Bosnia, there are landmines
Decorated with butterflies
And left on the grassy pathways
Of rural villages.

The children come, quivering down
Familiar lanes and fields.
Hands outstretched, they reach triumphant
For these bright, elusive insects -
Themselves becoming wing�d in the act;
Gaudy and ephemeral."

- Rosia Boland