I do something bone numbingly stupid. I hold on to every card, letter, thank you note, holiday letter… all of them. They are in a box. It’s not a small box. I appear to have lost some of the ones from very early in my life (unless they are somehow buried at the bottom of the box I think of as “Noah’s stuff). Well… and I burned my dad’s suicide note.

This is a stupid thing to do. It’s stupid for a whole bunch of reasons but chiefly because scanning through these things causes me pain. I fucked up so many relationships. I hurt people. I made choices that horrify or embarass me. I lost people that I didn’t want to lose due to my selfishness and my unkindness and my anger.

And I keep this box to remind me that if you fuck up there are consequences. If I run my mouth or think too highly of my opinion… there are consequences. If I put myself out there and let people know what I really think it may result in the severing of ties I don’t want to sever. Better to shut my fucking mouth and bite my tongue and pretend everything is fine even when it isn’t.

It’s the price.