The idea (ol'ispirazione) came to me at the end of one, if not stressful, long day work. I tried to find someone to go shopping, but I only gave up the first refusal, which is not really me. And so I came home with boxes provided: two-, medium-small.
We are upset.
I have great memories of four years came in two packs that I had procured, and I feared (or maybe hoped) was not enough. Photos, letters, CDs, drawings, diaries, even picture frames, ornaments and some small stuffed animals. I have not spent more than half an hour. It was all so fast, easy and painless, which left me in a sense of emptiness, bitterness ... I never thought I would shed rivers of tears, but maybe I'd come a bit 'of nostalgia, I do not know ... nothing. Only guilt, from time to time. Because he keeps trying to send mail and SMS receiving no answer, call me, because wants to talk, and while I ex pictures, free drawers and walls of my room. He is suffering, despair, and I did not dedicate it to twenty minutes of my day, just enough time to pack up the memories of the past four years. Moreover, I take back almost instantly with the thought, just to remind myself of how, until two months ago, I was for him mom, sister, friend, daughter, niece, aunt and cousin (all but companion ... anyway), so the abnegation with which I have dedicated to him and I almost canceled, too often silenced by putting my needs and my desires. So that's what you have left to pretend, now, nothing more, twenty minutes, and no tears.
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