It was a bunch of
lies, that pile of stuff that she proudly declared to define her.
It wasn't the fancy
camera; it was the memories frozen in time.
It wasn't the
diploma; it was the years of learning and friendship.
It wasn't the stack
of rejected manuscripts; it was the hope of just one more chance to prove
yourself to the world.
It wasn't the stash
of resumes; it was the drive to find your place in the world.
It wasn't the love
letters from an old flame; it was the feelings of a first love.
So it wasn't
"just a bunch of stuff." That part was a lie.
It was a bunch of
her.
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