But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and both right and left for seemingly endless directions, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was the one that read, "People I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut that drawer.

I was shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog for my life. Here were written the actions of every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense a shame and regret so intense I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends that I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I have read," "Lies I have told," "Comfort I have given," "Jokes I have laughed at," and so on. Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I have yelled at my siblings." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I have done in my anger," and "Things I have muttered under my breath at my parents."

I never ceased to be surprised by their contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that the time in my 20 years of life I had so much opportunity to write these thousands or even millions of cards?

But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my own signature.

When I pulled the file marked "Songs I have listened to", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a severe cold chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch or two, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at the detailed content. I felt sick to think such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal-like rage broke on me. One though dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy this place and its contents!" In an insane frenzy, I yanked the last file I had looked at out of it's slot. The size of it didn't matter anymore. I had to empty it and burn the cards.

But as I took the file box by one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it in half.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the lustful file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long self-pitying sigh. click here to continue with the story