[This is not a story about objects]

  It's that time again.

  The time to clean up unwanted, unneeded things.

  It's not always fun, but not always that bad either.

  With each object there are memories.

  Those can be difficult to get rid of, though there are some simpler cases.

  For example, simple candy wrappers are easily thrown away, while something like stuffed animals that have known and given warmth are more difficult.

  I don't like to admit it, but it does get easier eventually.

  As long as you don't get attached, as long as you don't keep it too long around.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Today I'm cleaning out an old and forgotten cupboard.

  Dust has gathered both inside as outside.

  Carefully I reach inside the dark place and search until I feel something familiar.

  I take out an old flashlight which once shone so bright in my darkest moments.

  I press the button, but now it has nothing but a dull beam, almost indistinguishable from the dark itself.

  Did I use it too much?

  Could it not handle what I told it?

  Or did time simply take it?

  Why did you shine brighter than me?

  Reaching for the next object I find a mirror.

  It's cracked.

  I remember the day it reflected me perfectly, I never liked that about it, that's why I left it here.

  Now it shows even worse, showing multiple versions of myself, from which none I want to identify with.

  I should have thrown this out ages ago.

  You never understood me anyway.

  Then there's an old picture inside an even older frame.

  One showing the past, but every time I look it turns worse.

  Why show me this now? I ask it every time.

  Truths that were meant to be hidden, truths I never wanted to acknowledge.

  The past is in the past, but not in this picture.

  It's alive, it's breathing, beckoning me inside it's awful cold.

  Why do you only see everything in a negative light?

  Right, this is enough.

  It all needs to go.

  They keep on hurting me.

  If I could I would have burned them, killed them, hurt them.

  But they won't let me.

  So cutting them out completely is my only option.

  [This is a story about people]