Value is so multifaceted, and even in my own definition, I can’t quite hold its place with one particular meaning. There is the intrinsic value I place on objects of significance, the things I own, and the things I make. Then there is the value that I place on my heart, my life, my thoughts, and my abilities. Regardless of it’s denotative meaning, value is something created, but never destroyed.
I value the people in my life, and though they come and go, for a short period of time, they taught me small fragments of what it means to be alive and happy in this world. The value given to those who enter my life is something that cannot be seen, but it is something more powerful than any possession I own. The people in my life are the reason I live, despite the fallouts, the fights, and the disappointments; they give me everything.
The people in my life come and go, and I will spend the entirety of my life working to show appreciation to those who place themselves in my path. However, I will not be a liar and claim that my only value is the people that come into my life, but I value myself as a human being. I hold a place in my heart so deep that demands that I value myself as much as I value another person. While I am not inferior nor superior to anyone, I am equal.
I am a sentimental hoarder. I keep letters, cards, ticket stubs, and plane tickets in a box for myself and my love. These are things that I hold near and dear to my heart because with each of those items, a little of myself is with them, and a little piece of our love is on each and every item. They may just be trinkets and tiny senseless things, but the value they hold is nothing less than priceless. I value the things that represent the people in my life, for they are the most important.
Of all the things to be valued in this world, I could not ask for a better experience. Giving value to something isn’t quantitative, it’s qualitative.