Why Throwing Things Out Is a Dramatic Process.

I spent most of the morning culling my notes, tests and essays from school last year. GOODBYE HIGH SCHOOL. While it was kind of a relief, honestly, I’m not the kind of person that finds it easy to let go. I get possessive and protective over a pile of junk I’m probably never going to look at, ever again. Ever. All I can think about is how many torturous hours I had spent slaving over this essay or how many failed attempts it took to successfully complete that maths worksheet. And then I transition between “But what if I need these sometime in the future?!” and “Look at my life. All summed up in one mountain of paper. That is a whole year of my life right there.” It’s really hard for me. *sniff*

But guys, I did it! I threw out heaps! Maths notes? You betcha. English essays? Adios. Random-sheet-of-paper-with-incoherent-nonsense-scribbled-everywhere? Totally! Large amount of Psych, Lit and French stuff? No, I kept that. I might need it at Uni. HEY, YOU DON’T KNOW! Okay, okay. So I still have quite a lot stashed away that I probably don’t need, but at least I’m prepared on the off-chance that my Lit teacher shows up one day with a surprise contention-forming test. I bet you didn’t think of that, did you?



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