All sorts of things. A long time ago, my friend Jack died from a brain tumor. The last time we saw him before he died (we being my friends and I) he gave us this funny eraser. It was long and colorful, and reminded us of him. So we split it four ways between us. I used all of mine drawing, one friend lost his, and one still has his. The last friend's mom threw it away, thinking it was trash. He cried for at least an hour. It was all he had to remember his best friend by. Nobody else knew, just us. It was of no value. It was an eraser. But it was worth more than gold to him
She didn't even realize though, it was just an eraser. Who knew that a broken piece of 3 year old eraser was so important? Items of sentiment value are to be treasured. I hate it when people go through my stuff, because I fear they'll throw away something of value
His mom must be a real thug, stealing his sanity away. Reminds me of my mom. She always talks about how she doesn't have everything during her childhood. I was like, bitch please. You are telling me that yet after you failed college, you are just going to quit like it's nothing? (my dad made her go back btw, but in a private school)