trapa!

Is there a place where lost things go? And if so, what happens when they're lost in that place? I lose bobby pins, quarters, books, mechanical pencils, socks, CDs, my graphing calculator and wonder where they are. They have to be around somewhere, they couldn't possibly have just simply ceased to exist. What happened can't simply have ceased to exist. What was said and was ignored can't simply cease to exist. That feeling of being wronged in some way, you lose it for a while, but it doesn't go away. It's there, but you forget it for awhile. Even so, you can't lose it completely. But what about that CD you can't find. Where did it go? Is there a giant warehouse somewhere on another plane of being that it transports to? What if you chanced upon that storage place and stumbled in side, making a path through forgotten, lost, indescribable treasures. Now imagine finding that Foreginer (or insert your genre of choice) CD! You set it down, eager to explore, but when you get back to where you think you left it, it's gone. Where does it go then? Among the multitude of random objects I seem to lose everyday, I've lost some experiences that I don't want to ever be found, but there are some that I wish could've come full circle before being lost forever. So making way for new things, we forget the old, but it's always there, hidden under the countless chapters read, the array of trivia discovered, the scattered words yet to be spoken, for all of our life. Where do these things go? Would you want to find them? What would you do with them? I don't know, myself. I'm sure none of that makes sense and it's extremely redundant, but I felt the need to rant a while metaphorically, so there.