I was cleaning my room when I noticed that I’m somewhat of a hoarder.

Not the kind of hoarding that’s seen on those crazy TV shows where the person can’t even move in their own home, but the kind of hoarding where I keep a lot of little things that mean something to me or remind me of a certain time.

Take my bedroom door for example, it is covered in movie stubs, concert tickets, old fortunes from fortune cookies, photo strips from photo booths and a ton of other little things of that nature.

Looking at my door from far away, it looks like a giant collage of trash, but up close it’s a collage of memories.

When I look under my nightstand all I see is stacks of birthday, Christmas and Valentines day cards followed by at least 10 photo albums.

I can’t get rid of any of it. None.

Sure, it all takes up space, but I’d rather have my childhood take up space in my room than phone cases, water bottles and old magazines.

Everything that I keep for years and years has so much sentimental value to me.

I can reminisce on the friends made, the friends lost and the fun days I had with them; walking aimlessly around the mall from store to store or swinging on the swing set at the park five minutes from my house.

I can look back on those amazing birthdays and holidays spent with my family where everyone came in from Texas, Florida and California to squeeze into my tiny house. 

I like being able to look upon the old memories in my life, because it makes me happy and on some occasions, sad.

I could look at a picture and think to myself, “Damn, I wish that I could relive that moment again,” or “Wow, I really miss that person.”

Keeping things to reminisce on is so important, and if it means collecting a little bit of clutter, then that’s okay with me.

It lets me go back to happy or even sad times in my life whether it  may be my childhood or something from a couple weeks ago, and to me, that is something worth having.