Sentimenal Essentialism

We are creatures that are tethered to each other. There is something illogical that makes us sentimental. Why do we love that ratty toy from our childhood, or have a certain affinity for places or scents or even people?

Loving that toy or scent or person doesn't make you a bad person. It's a natural for humans to assign meaning to inanimate objects, like our childhood security toys. This is called essentialism. This is why a replica of your family heirlooms wouldn't hold the same meaning to you. Possessions hold experiences. Scent holds memories, and memories hold meaning. We are the confusing complicated bundle of human that ultimately holds the most sentimental qualities. Although I am stretching this concept, I whole-heartedly believe that living things carry these sentimental ties.

When you are the person who is the receiver of those sentimental feelings it is strange and confusing. Imagine the feeling of your childhood toy, assuming you hold it to essentialism standards, when you take it out of it's hiding spot to dust it off. It must feel loved again, needed. It was there to comfort you, and it 'knows' you in the most basic way but loves you unconditionally regardless. This thing is something special to you; it taught so much.

You knocked it around, took it everywhere with you, and no matter what you do, it can never be un-tattered. Now, you take care of the things you have. You carefully keep this new thing in a safe place because you realize that things that become broken can never really be put back together in the same way. You may love this new thing, but it is a different kind of love. Reckless love, unconditional messy, I-never-thought-I-could-really-ruin-this kind of love only happens once. Then you put that love in a box in the back of your closet, and only take it out when you're alone and that wave of sentimentalism captures you in her riptide.