The things I’ve lost…

… could fill a warehouse if a warehouse could house self respect.  The idea being that I defined everything I was by the sum of my possessions, never giving myself a worth beyond materialism.  When it was all taken, all stolen, I had to come to terms with the need to move on. I tried to go back to that warehouse of self-worth.  When I arrived I discovered every square inch bare, every window boarded up, every light on which would shine something I could appreciate about myself was turned off.  The warehouse was vacant, and empty dark place in which I would sit and cry so I could paint the walls with my tears.

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