I should probably get rid of the blue box underneath my bed, holding your Christmas and birthday cards to me, and the letters I wrote to you, but you never read. I should probably throw out the notes we passed in class – the remainders of the games we played – the reminders of the past. I was wrong to think that something between the two of us could last. I should probably donate your old sweater to a children’s shelter, and burn your t-shirt, too. I should get rid of anything with your scent, or even a trace of you. Maybe I should rip all the pictures from that very first day. But maybe, just maybe, I’m hoping we’ll end up together, and that it’ll all be okay. So I’ll save your old Christmas cards and birthday cards, and I’ll save your old sweater, too. I won’t burn your big, blue t-shirt – I’ll wear it at night, and think of you. I’ll keep all the notes we passed in class – reminders of the fun and games. I’ll preserve all the pictures from that day we first exchanged names. And last, but not least? I’ll keep the letters, too – all the stories, and poems, and diary entries where I wrote about my longing for you. I’ll keep all these things in a blue box underneath my bed. I should probably throw them all out, but I’m going to keep them instead.