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‘I had miscalculated the tools of adulthood when I was young, or I had miscalculated the kind of adult I would be.’

There’s a point at which what is nonessential becomes unnecessary and what is unnecessary creates its own kind of necessity. Much of what is kept is being kept from its next and rightful owner, and what’s left tells a story of what belongs. The boxed possessions that I told myself would be on hand when my life changed are the ones that keep me in the box.