(i.e. I finally got the guts to throw out all- or at least most- of my old crap.)
Something in me feels oddly released from these old crappy things. I still cared about them enough to waver over whether to finally throw them out, because it reminds me of a time when art was just art and not anything that I had to try for or do correctly. Back when it was enough that I drew a picture or made a character regardless of how badly drawn or unoriginal it was. None of it was “good” none of it was “worth keeping” but for years I did. Just to remind myself that Once Upon a Time I used to dream of this as a career.