Last night as I was winding down and getting ready to go to bed a thought popped in my head. Hey, where are all those shoeboxes full of love notes, letters, and pictures from my past? I knew I should have left them alone, but something compelled me to find them. Full of anticipation I trudged upstairs and started searching my old room. I soon found what I was looking for on top of the closet, way in the back, buried under piles of crap.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I brought all six boxes downstairs to my cave. I stared at the Birkenstock box, knowing exactly what was in it, wondering if I should really look inside. This was the Joy box. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. I poured myself a cup of decaf coffee and watched the steam swirl and rise. I put in a dip of Copenhagen and let the nicotine take affect. Then I opened the box, both literally and figuratively.

Reading all the old letters in chronological order. Getting pissed, angry. Looking at the evidence with fresh eyes. Jesus, she was so fucking manipulative. Oh my god, I can’t believe she wrote that! Fucking cunt. Next box.

The Julie box. Bleah. I only read a few letters. Next box.

The random box. This one had letters I had written but never sent, funny stuff from when me and the guys were bored in class, drawings, all kinds of silly stuff. Next box.

Hey, this is the Boot Camp box! I saved all the letters my friends and family sent me. Some of them were pretty funny. I’m in a much better mood now. This last box has to be the picture box.

Yep, picture box. It was filled with all the photos I’d collected over the years. Everything was here, up to when I bought my first digital camera and stopped using film. Pictures from Japan, Singapore, Australia, Mexico, Yosemite, Santa Cruz, Las Vegas, Hawaii, Hong Kong–all my adventures. I picked out the best ones and set them aside.

This morning I got to work scanning.

Click here to see pictures of me when I was skinny!