And I felt incomplete.


I’m in a purging kind of mood today.  The kind where I am just throwing shit out.  Lots of it.

It’s not just today – it is over the last months.  Two or three months, maybe?

Clothes.  I’ve gotten rid of several garbage bags of clothes over the past month – I don’t even know where they all come from and I am on a “clothes freeze” so I won’t even buy more… perhaps my impulsiveness will leave me with nothing to wear at some point, but for now, it is leaving me with less… “stuff” to put away each week.  As I am folding my clothes from my floor and overflowing laundry baskets each, I quickly glance at the items and throw a bunch of them in a pile… “I have too many long-sleeve shirts”, “I didn’t like the way this fit”, “this is a stupid colour”… and every week the pile of stuff going out grows.

Magazines.  I am a magazine hoarder.  I still have the first magazine I ever bought (don’t worry, it is safely secured in a box in the basement of things I packed away long ago).  But I buy magazines for the cover stories (never trashy gossip, just fashion magazines or movie magazines).  And then I KEEP them.  Why?  I don’t know.  But I am trying to empty off an entire shelf of stuff so I can get rid of the shelf and it is filled with dozens of magazines from the past two or three years.  And I don’t need them.  I’ve just thrown them all in a bucket and they are going.

Will I regret throwing these things away without a second thought?

I am not someone who does things without serious contemplation.  I am not someone who takes action lightly.  I am someone who can look at an action and imagine 10,000 possible reactions.  I make my decision based on whether I think I can live with the worst of the possibilities.  I usually don’t live WELL with the consequences, but I need to decide that I WILL live.

What if I need something back?
What if I need to take something back?
Why can’t we undo our actions?
Why can’t we take back our words?
Why can’t we make other people take things back?

Things they do to us?
Things done.

Done.  That’s why.  Because they are done.
Done means complete.

So why do I feel so incomplete?
And why do I feel like stuff is going to complete me?
Like people are going to complete me?

I need to complete myself.


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