The misnomer of the recycling bin.

You may now be proud of me because I used the following icon today:

I am fully aware that my relationship with the he who shall not be named has been over for almost an entire year. I have know for the majority of that time that there was never going to be anything between us again (as he was engaged, and now married to another girl). But today I finally deleted all of the pictures I have of us. (Can that relationship be summed up in 59 pictures?)

I guess I thought there might someday be a reason I would want one of the pictures of us. I don't know to... show posterity? But no. That's not necessary. What was I holding on to? What dream or what kind of validation was I seeking from those pictures. I haven't looked at these pictures in quite a while (except for when I'm looking at attractive pictures of myself.) The pictures served to cause a sinking feeling in my stomach (which beats the 4 months of throwing up that photos weren't needed for). But deleting them did too.

I had a Facebook album that was pictures of his visit to Seattle last summer, many months ago I hid it, but I finally deleted it today too. Gone, they're all gone. And part of me wants to go and retrieve them. A surprisingly smaller part than I thought it would be.

Maybe the reason it is so hard is because it seems to be photographic proof that someone felt that way about me. Someone loved me once.

Someone recently asked me which season I thought I was most like. Though autumn is my favorite, I told him that I was most like spring because Spring is a hopeful beautiful time. Though to me it seems like I went through a dead (feeling) period of time, things were happening under the surface, and now; it's starting to feel like spring.

So yes, Mr. Recycling bin, I would like to send those 59 images to the recycle bin.

Be proud of me, ok?