Jerked up from my sleep.

A sudden flashbacks of memories that caused me to take out a particular box, contained with gifts meant for people. People who are no longer an important part of my life. Envelopes, gift wrappers are torn apart. Letters, read. Reading through them, I remember that I was in a certain type of sadness and pain while writing them. A kind of sadness that I didn't quite understand myself, yet I spent a generous amount of time on them - careful with the words I chose to express, careful with wrapping, careful with everything.

I sit here now, and try to recall back those times. Especially the heart wrenching times but I cannot seem to squeeze one drop of tear. I thought back about this important person in my life now, all that she's been through - I'm crying.

What does all this mean? I'd be lying if I said I still have the urge to let them have them. I don't seem to think that it's all that important, to those people and to myself anymore.