it's just a shirt

cleaning out my closet, i unearthed some obsessive behavior i had no idea i possessed.
i could not bring myself to get rid of certain things because they evoked memories of an event, a great time in my life or a certain person.

actually, i couldn't bring myself to throw a lot of these materialistic memories in the black donation bag.

example: back when i was much thinner (thank you, mono, for granted me a super-sleek summer of 2003) i returned from Rome, Italy completely infatuated. i had fallen for Italy. with the memories and love still alive, back home, i bought a green tanktop with a screen printed peach on it that said "Rome, Georgia, home of the greatest peaches" or something like that. that same week my boyfriend (also my greatest love of the early 2000s) attended lollapalooza, drank beer, took a ton of photos of our favorite bands with a very valuable photo pass and had an amazingly memorable day. maybe one of my favorite nights of all time. and i wore that shirt. actually, i wore that shirt, a short denim skirt and brown flip flops that kind of hurt my feet.

well, that love has since faded (may i never see him again) but seeing that shirt brought back that memory i had tucked away. i didnt so much think about the dude and all of the horrible emotional stress he has since caused me, but i remembered how i felt and the fun i had. i even smelled, hoping that it may smell like sweat, smoke or summer. it didn't.

six years later, i doubt i could fit a tit into that shirt.

i didn't put it in the garbage bag -- i just couldn't do it. i put it back in my closet.
maybe in the next closet-clearing round.