After years of slowly reconstructing my mind I found myself lying in the ruminants of hidden memories, memories that bled of acidity and unaddressed trauma. As I gathered pieces of my being I wanted to keep, I stumbled upon a curious habit I had picked up. I hid sections of my memories in trinkets, maps, sentimental writings and inanimate objects. I shut them away in boxes or drawers waiting to revisit them when I had the mental capacity. One day as I purged unwanted clothes and junk I ran across these shadows of my conciseness. They seemed to float in a space that defied time and physics, I decided that I would honor my trauma as a being that has shaped me to the person I am today. I was now a creature I had grown to love, one that was adorn with blessings and who I cherished time alone with. I hoped that I could create something that was new yet held small glimpses of what I used to be. So, as we burry our dead, I buried my forgotten thoughts. I finally sorted them though and laid them to rest in the remnants of forgotten memories. Here is what is left.