What am I?
You fill me up at first, but then leave me empty in the end.
You only open me up when you want something, and ignore me when you don’t.
You help yourself to my contents, then close me back up again.
Sometimes, when you are done with them, you put them back in a mess.
And other times, you don’t return them.
You take the things you love the most, and leave behind the things you don’t.
You place new things in, and take them out when they fit you most.
You like to keep me around, until another one moves in.
You leave me in the dark waiting for you to open me up again.
What am I, to you?
A drawer in your dresser?