The contents themselves can in fact be quite easily replaced; a couple of novels and comics, a copy of The Resistance: Avalon (the excellent hidden roles game!), and some stationery. In terms of material loss, it's not very much, I know.
But the immaterial still mattered to me.
***
I always hated losing things. But mostly, I hate getting caught off guard and getting things taken from me without my knowledge. That's what happened, you see: I was watching some friends play music and I left my bag in my seat, along with my friends' bags. When we got back, my bag was gone, presumably taken by someone. I let my guard down. I wasn't being pessimistic enough. I lost things, because I lost control of the situation.
Of course I blamed myself. "I am the one thing in life I can control!" Hence, I am the one thing in life I can truly blame for not performing up to my standards. Doesn't mean that they who took the bag wasn't in the wrong, doesn't mean I wouldn't try to break their arm or smash their nose into a table had I caught them at it, but it's simply no use blaming them NOW when it's happened and they've scarpered off with the bag.
I blamed myself. Which would, if I am being consistent, lead to me modifying my behaviour during live shows or any public events. The simplest way is to be paranoid, and not trust anyone, including myself, and keep my possessions at or as close to my person as I can manage.
But. I've tried that, you know. It's tiring. It's a lot of work. It's way too much work for the meager reward of "getting to keep having the non-perishable things I have now."
***
This may seem weird, but it was only after I fully felt the pain of the loss of trust (for myself and other people alike) that I noticed the pain of the loss of the things themselves. Or maybe not. They are just things, after all. Replaceable, and rather easily at that. I should just replace them all, and the problem would be solved. Yes?
No. They are - were - NOT "just things." They were MY things. And the moment I recognised them as my things, I created a bond between myself and them. If you were so inclined, you can say that they were my Horcruxes. As are all my possessions. I put fragments of my soul (whatever that is) into each and every one of them. As such, each time a thing of mine stops being mine, whether by going missing or getting broken or destroyed . . . I die a little.
This is also tiring.
***
I'm lazy. I don't like getting tired. And right now, I am tired. Tired from all the self-hate, all the poisonous possessiveness, all the mistrust.
So I'm changing tack.
I'm not becoming paranoid. I'm not going to look at everyone with distrust. But neither will I kill my feelings for my things.
Rather, I'm going to try to stop looking at my things as my things, and start looking at them as my children. They already have part of my soul (whatever that is), after all.
I will try to be a good parent. I will be happy when my children are around, but I will realise that they might not reach their full potential by staying beside me. I will feel bad when they're hurt, but I will recognise that they are not weak, and they might have to get hurt to be useful.
I will learn how to say goodbye.
I hope that, wherever all my lost things, over the years, have gone, and whomever they end up with, they bring more even good now than they have already done for me.
By the by, if anyone was expecting me to comment on Tooth and Tail . . . My laptop was not strong enough to run it, so I had to get a refund. I just bought Niche, though. It's a genetic survival game. I played the demo a few months back, and it's just as engrossing as it was when it was a demo. Three hours just blinked past during my first playthrough.
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