I’ve been taking time off work and clearing out my back room, previously the place for crap, soon to be reborn as a cute office. Looks like I’m not so good at the updating when my schedule breaks down. But I’ll learn how to keep up… eventually…
Cleaning up my room
Why does it feel so good
To get rid of stuff
And why do so many people not feel the same way?
Here is an item
Every time I saw it
I thought how ugly it was
A relief to not have it polluting my sight.
Thank God it’s being given away.
A depressing reminder of abandoned ambitions
Grief-inducing mementos of lost loved ones
Old magazines? Guess what? I’m off the hook
I don’t have to read them.
They’re full of garbage and I can live without that data in my head.
I’m never using this warranty
I don’t like that photo
This drawing always bothered me
Who am I keeping it for? Posterity?
Nobody gives a shit about this shit painting.
I shouldn’t curse the future with such light-lacking things.
Nobody wants my garbage
Even I don’t want it.
How can anyone delight in having so much stuff?
They fill their houses with it
They get bigger houses so they can make room for more stuff
They are afraid to part with a single item
And if they do
They don’t forget about it
They really regret it forever.
Perhaps they are so beholden to their own identities
So shackled by the past
They cannot release a single newspaper.
The thing that makes me feel so free
Makes them feel unstable, lost
Freedom is instability
I suppose they can’t handle freedom
Because they have no faith in their own ability to handle it.
I don’t know much about hoarding
I’m a reverse hoarder
I’m a minimalist.
But I have a strong support network
And I have confidence
And I am lucky to not have
Such consuming fears.