My best friend and I were talking about childhood memories about Christmas gifts. I know that people talk about how we're not supposed to place so much emphasis on the material things, but sometimes, the material things made a huge difference in our perceptions of ourselves.
For instance, when I got my first boom box as a tween, it changed EVERYTHING for me. I suddenly had the ability to play my own cassettes and listen to them as often as I wished. For a while, this was an absolute joy . . . until it wasn't.
The problem with having something that I loved this much was that suddenly it was used against me. Whenever I would get into trouble, it was taken away from me. At one point, stepfather bastard decided it would be taken away from me forever. I was crushed . . . until I wasn't.
After a while, I just felt like I had to emotionally detach myself from the boom box. They took it away. It was no longer mine. I stopped caring about it and just basically hated them for the whole situation. I knew what I had done did not, in any way, warrant what happened. They were just being assholes.
Eventually, I got a new one. Actually, I even have one now. It's been sitting in my closet for a few years. I should probably take it out and dust it off. I probably wouldn't use it, but just knowing it's there gives me a kind of grim satisfaction about life.
The stepfather who did this to me is dead. The mother who allowed it to happen is dead. I have to admit I still hold some bitterness against them, which is stupid, because it was many, many years ago and they're dead. It's hard though. Adult me can forgive them but tween me is still angry.
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