Uniform pickle

A new season is here and my closet is getting full. That means another night is to be spent shoveling through mountains of clothes searching for things to keep and things to throw out. But this year will be harder than ones before.

I associate my clothes with the memories that I've made while wearing them. Like that blue tank top my mom wore to church today; I remember wearing it to my first school dance, with that brown tweed vest. And I recall my pink slip rising up when I jumped off the roof of that school. Like how I remember being in my first onesie when we conquered that questionable cake.

But it seems like I've done so much this year. Being my last year of high school, everything seemed like something I HAD to do.

I used to think that I'd just throw out every piece of my uniform once I finished my exams. But senior year was too good. Every stain and every rip on every article of my weekly clothes for the last four years will forever remind me of the years that I never wanted to keep.