9th January 18

Ticket stubs from films which I watched 3 years ago, their edges a little torn and the time and seat number written across the front, slightly faded. Old photos with a glowing finger covering the top left hand corner of the image, obscuring half a face from view. An old, empty popcorn bag from our first date to the cinema. Photo booth strips which didn’t really turn out so well, our faces stuck in half confusion from when the camera flash went off earlier than when we were expecting. A china doll which my parents bought me, decapitated, her head and body lying a couple of inches away from each other. These, along with many other half-forgotten memories, are the items which fill boxes under my bed and are stashed into bags in the corner of my wardrobe. The things I can’t bring myself to throw away. The proof of my sentimentality.


Maybe you’d call it hoarding, but I think really, I just have never been able to get rid of things which have any meaning attached to them. I have to force myself to throw away gift tags which are given to me attached to presents, even the ones with just my name scrawled across them. I keep birthday cards from every single year, stashed in the draws of my desk. I once bought a book from a charity shop which had the front page ripped out. As I neared the back of the book, I discovered that the missing page had been tucked into the back and was scrawled all over with words which didn’t fit together. I couldn’t bring myself to throw away the page. Although the words meant nothing to me, they must have meant something to someone.


don’t know why I like to keep things with meaning attached to them, I just do. They make me feel better knowing that they’re there. It’s why I find it too hard to delete photos on my phone, even if they’re blurry ones, and why I keep all of the photos which I take on my polaroid, even if they come out too dark or too overexposed. These things are reminders of a moment in time when I felt happy! Or felt alive! Or felt sad or uneasy or confused or unreal. Whatever I was feeling, I was feeling something. And that, to me, is worth remembering.


This is also why I love to take photos of absolutely everything. Because one day, maybe I won’t be out there doing all of the fun things which I get to do now, and I’m going to need something to look back on to help me to keep the memories alive. My bedroom walls are lined with photos from my childhood, polaroids from my days at uni and reels of disposables from festivals and long forgotten summer days. Having these photos of the places and people that I love surrounding myself make me feel infinitely better.


I also recently ordered some photos from Printiki, a photo service who allow you to print your photos with a polaroid look. It’s meant that I’ve found it way easier to have all of my favourite memories lining my walls and desk! These photos are slotted in between cinema stubs and tickets from travels, and all of them together help me to remember times when I felt at my absolute happiest.


So yes, I’m a sentimental person. And no, I don’t have any space left under my bed for the next things that I’ll want to stash there. But I feel glad to have so far lived a life full of so much love that I have all of these little reminders to keep.


Items in this post were sent to me for review, however all opinions are my own