Phoenix?

I think, honestly, that of all the things I wrote in the past, like diaries, short stories and poems, I only feel satisfied with about a handful of writings.
At the moment that would be perhaps 3 poems and 3 short stories. The older works are not necessarily that bad, but I don’t want them any more.
I don’t know what to think of this unsatisfied look upon everything else I did, it is just the way it is I suppose. I have become older so I prefer other things and I am more critical.
It just makes me wonder if this process of rejecting works from the past is something that will continue the rest of my life. Maybe.