I’m moderately sentimental about stuff. If it belonged to a grandparent, etc… I have the blouse I wore on my first date with Himself over 14 years ago. I have a lot less stuff than I used to.
It has to be a real heirloom kind of thing… and I’m young, and my family tend to be long-lived, so not many have come to me. I have the creamer from a doll’s tea set that belonged to my great-aunt; three cast-iron skillets that belonged to my great-great-grandmother; a fair isle vest my mother knit for me… and that’s it. The only other thing I’d hold on to is fine jewelry, and I still haven’t accumulated enough of that that “de-cluttering” would be an issue 
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I’m sentimental about special gifts (the bra and panties set that my mother gave me ten ago can be tossed out, but not things like jewerly). Also, I’m sentimental about silly things that only have meaning to me Like, I still have a set of Mardi Gras beads that a middle school teacher gave me. It doesn’t matter that all her students got beads, not just me, or that the beads probably aren’t worth more than two cents. I just remember how they got into my possession. That makes them special enough to keep.
I’m only sentimental about things I’ve made when they are especially spectacular. I make my own necklaces and I’ve gotten so used to losing them that I barely realize their loss, but I’d be sad if one of the vases I’ve painted got lost or stolen.
I don’t think I’m all that sentimental, but sometimes I regret tossing certain things away. I wish I had kept all the reports I’d written, from elementary school on up. I wish I still had my first violin. I usually don’t remember how special certain things are until they’re gone.
I have no sentimental attachment to any objects at all. I have nothing left from my childhood, not even family photos.
My oldest possession is my bong, which I bought in college. Just a few months ago I went to a headshop to try to find a replacement, but I couldn’t find one as nice.
Very much so. In fact, I’ve got a few things I wouldn’t mind being buried with.
They’re my…preciouses.
Now, that might be the way to get my husband to part with a few of his “preciouses.” “You know you look like Gollum with those busted-up Star Wars figurines, right? Would you like a raw fish?”
Not at all. It’s just stuff.
The memories are what matters, not the stuff that tags along.
Photographs and other personal effects (like kids report cards) are different. How? Because I say so! 
I’m extremely sentimental, and I can’t stand to part with things I’ve been given. It seems like when I was a kid, I was always being told to take care of things because they don’t make those anymore more so they’ll be valuable some day, or they belonged to someone who’s no longer with us, or something else along those lines. Since a lot of people who have given me stuff are no longer with us, it hurts to consider getting rid of it. It’s probably a sickness.
I am so sentimental that I would gladly put a bullet in the head of the slimebags that robbed my house, stealing a wonderful watercolor of my deceased father that was painted by my deceased stepmother.
I think residential burglars should be executed. On the first offense. I am not kidding.
So, yeah, I am sentimental about my possessions.
Heh. My folks kept my report cards for decades. When they downsized, they sent them to me. I flipped through them, said, “Huh! I got damn good grades in religion in second grade,” and, “Oh, yeah, what an asshole Mr. Leo was,” and tossed them.
I’ve kept a box of sentimental things from my childhood including a plush pink lamb that was given to me on the day I was born. I also have a box of memorable items from my relationship with Mr J. That’s still growing.
I also have many, many journals. Those are very important to me.