You kept that friendship he inadvertently gave you, the pendant from that broken locket, the letter and the plushie you still cherish - all of these, memories of a girl you once were. Until one day you stayed staring at that one dreaded keepsake. You couldn't find it in yourself to throw it away. Only when your friend did it for you, did you finally take a sigh of relief. Why is it that some objects cause such an intense feeling in us, while others that come from a similar agonizing reminiscence, do not? Why is it that we're alright loving some for their flaws, but not the others? Why is it that we'll forever remember the bad, but seldom hold onto the good?