Finding an Old Photo

Last night, I was sorting through my collection of journals, trying to find an unused one.  As I was checking each journal, a photograph fell out of one.  I glanced at it and I realized it was of a former boyfriend from several years ago -- before I moved to my current city.  For this post, I'll refer to this guy as Stockboy.  As I glanced at Stockboy's picture, I was somewhat surprised by my rather unemotional and matter-of-fact response to finding it:

Oh, it's a picture of Stockboy.  I wonder if I should keep it or throw it away.

I honestly wasn't sure what I wanted to do with the picture, which I found somewhat surprising.  You see, I didn't feel any desire to keep the picture.  My relationship with him is long over -- by slightly more than seven years -- and in the past.  I have no desire to resurrect or relive that past.  I don't have the slightest desire to seek him out and reconnect.  I could go the rest of my life without really thinking of him or my relationship with him and find it perfectly fulfilling life.

At the same time, I had no major desire or need to get rid of the picture.  I have no compulsion to keep Stockboy out of his life or bury lingering pains -- there are no such pains with regards to him -- by repressing memories of him or our time together.  I can -- and occasionally do -- talk about times I spent with him very matter-of-factly as experiences that contribute to who I am and how I got to whre I am.

In the end, I decided to toss the picture.  Since I had no desire to hold on to the picture and no need to cast it from my life, I took a practical approach to the question.  Since I don't need or absolutely love the picture, it's effectively clutter, something I have way too much in my life.  So I tossed the picture as something I don't need.

Besides, the memories are still there in the depths of my psyche.  I don't need a picture to access them.  Their presence there is a good thing.  They may surface from time to time of their own accord.  Or I may never think of them at all.  Either way, it's okay with me.  It's a part of my past I've made peace with, and that's all that matters.