Some time ago, an item of certain sentimental value was burned to a crisp while being manipulated as the center point for a bonfire, but not by me. This particular item I once had was given to a dear friend, whom I believed to have had my trust. Eventually, as typical college and youthful drama occurred, this friend used the item as a somewhat brick of wood to ignite a bonfire to burn everything we once shared: old photographs from our happiest times, tiny gifts, and essentially anything related to me. When this bonfire was discovered, this friend of mine was with me when I asked this friend where the item was. To this, the friend said, "Oh, haha. Yeah, about that - it's gone. It was used for a bonfire to burn all of our stuff." I couldn't help but feel slightly broken by this revelation, knowing that this item (which was my first copy of Watchmen, the graphic novel by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons) has been disintegrated into blind thin air. In turn, this friend attempted to rectify the fatuous action by purchasing another copy of the book for me, yet clearly there is no comprehension for anything related to sentimental value.
As a resident of Desolation Row, I leave you with this: if you have acquired something of value, either personal and/or importance, try not to give it away. The inner value reflects only you.
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