Why fountain pen gift boxes scare me

So it's September. When we see all those "Back to School" photos and another batch of teens head to "Freshers Week" at university. But September always makes me shudder just a little bit. You see, I didn't handle the transition to 'big school' very well. I was shocked to be a small fish in a big pond. For me, this manifested itself in an astonishing ability to lose things. Basically, if it wasn't attached to me, I'd lose it. I lost so many lunch boxes, my mother started giving me empty ice cream cartons instead. I lost my coat, mislaid my school bag. I left my rugby kit out on the pitch, never to be seen again. In fact, I completely lost whole kit bags. Above all, though, I lost fountain pen after fountain pen, to the extent that it would make me cry with frustration. Even now the "clop" of a closing fountain pen gift box makes me shudder. And only recently, when I received a fountain pen for Christmas, a small voice within me asked: Am I going to be able to look after this? Do they think I'm responsible enough? My mother must have been furious with me, but she never showed it. Instead she showed me kindness and love, and taught me to laugh at myself. I remember one weekend afternoon when she managed to turn my tears of frustration into hysterical laughter at the absurdity of the situation. Eventually, I settled. But why am I telling you this in my blog? Well, firstly to reassure friends and relatives going through similar life-chang