Do you know that feeling when emotions you tried to repress for years come rushing back all of a sudden in one night? Like when you accidentally clicked a facebook photo album of a person that you really liked and you saw how much s/he has grown - and no matter how much you've wanted to be a part of that growth, you remain only to be an observer/admirer?
The tragic (and ironic) thing here is that the more you shield these memories, the more piercing they eventually get. Add to that being in a cold room with only your laptop to keep you company and you have the perfect recipe for a "slash-wrist" night.
It's 1:45am. I wasn't able to keep myself from opening the cabinet and retrieving my high school memory box. It's where I keep important photos, letters, my diaries and all sorts of other memorabilia. I think I haven't checked it for more than a year so the content deeply overwhelmed me.
Then I finally found the letter I was looking for. Written in a yellow paper folded lengthwise, it was a response to a palanca (retreat letter) I wrote more than four years ago. That hand writing (and the hand that wrote it)! It still sent chills down my spine. I exactly remember how it was given to me - in the second floor corridor just after the morning assembly. You smiled and you weren't sure what to say. I didn't even expect you to write back, but you did and I still have it with me.
It's weird that your best memories can sometimes be the most painful - only because of how much you'd want to bring it back over and over again. Only if we could. But maybe that's the secret to why they are your most precious.