comradebuttons

I went on a hunt today for my old journals from high school. Couldn't find them. They had a lot of my old poetry in them, back when I was inspired. I'd give next to anything to find them. Did I burn them? I seem to recall tearing the pages out and throwing them into the fire. It's depressing. But maybe the past is best kept in the mind, not on paper? Fire is a symbol of immortality. I'll look in one or two more places, and then I'll give up.