You know when you misplace a thing and can’t find it, whether it’s a book or childhood toy or an old leather jacket, and hours pass and you grow more and more desperate and you’re looking everywhere — in closets, under beds, behind couches, and at last, you find it. And you are ecstatic, overjoyed, the relief is palpable. But then, a surge of disappointment hits, followed by a wave of disenchantment, a dreadful realization that this something or other is not quite as wonderful as you remember it. You begin to grow weary and disillusioned, regretting all the time you wasted on reclaiming it, so you throw it aside, and eventually, you forget it ever existed. I am sorry I let this happen to us.
—Beau Taplin || Misplaced belongings. (via afadthatlastsforever)