If it ain't broke, don't fix it

if it's broke, don't fix it. it broke for a reason.
ha

imagine a person had dozens of shelves, and every jar had a kleenex in it, or dried resin in the bottom, or (for the newest jars) a small amount of liquid that was the tears that person had cried. imagine those kleenex's were soaked with tears at one point, and that dried resin was from the tears drying up, evapourating. imagine hundreds of tiny jars filled with nothing, with nothing but a label that said why those once-upon-a-time tears were cried.
you could write a story from those jars. you could write a story about why those tears were cried, what was going on. Imagine a room of empty jars. empty save for the memories that can't be seen, or smelled, or detected in any way.

why would you do it? an aching heart? to remember. to remember. to remember. hurts. to look at all those jars filled with nothingness, and realize you cried into them all once...
would it really hurt? or just be there.

I think I'm making a mistake. consideration time is coming in. I think I'm making a mistake. I likely am. so what do I do? clean things up now, or later, after I've had my fun? After I've learned, and fucked up.

what options do I have, though? what real options do I have?... not much. frig. I think I'm screwed over big time