All That Clutters...

Currently playing:
"Stupid Girl" by Garbage

My sister would always advise me to do my solistic therapy whenever I'm confined with monroeism.
I grew up keeping boxes of clutters which my sister would refer to as my emotional box.
When things get rough,
I'd just stay at home and lock myself in the room and throw all what's inside the boxes on the floor.
These are all of my favorite things with sentimental value as per se.
It mostly contains of papers;
letters,
books,
paperclips,
valuable pens,
painting materials
old diaries,
invitations,
souvenir items,
tickets,
pictures,
chocolate wrappers,
jewelries,
accessories,
broken watches
miniature toys,
cassete tapes,
vhs tapes,
outfits,
bags,
tags,
etc.

Then I'd start to decide which one is for keeps,
what to discard and recycle.
It would usually take 3-5 days for me to put it back to its own boxes and it's considered an achievement if I'd be able to discard one box of trash.

After doing so,
I'd feel the relief and somehow gain some peace of mind.
All ready to fix my life then.

There are so many things that I want to get rid out of my system,
yet it seems so hard to get all the things that you exactly want in life but it's the art of giving without taking,
spending without earning.
And sometimes,
it's always hard to decide to let go of something that's very important for you,
and the irony is,
these important things has no value at all.
That's the most dramatic part of this entry.

Back to the present.
I couldn't afford to bring all my beautiful garbage boxes when I moved here.
And for more than 2 years of living in the Queen City,
I had stuffed a big box of garbage on top of my hanging closet,
and had lived a beautiful messy-rable life.
I had slowly ditched irrelevant collections and disposed bad memorabillas.
I turned my room as zen-ic as possible.
This would somehow shelter my toxicated life.

Until I found something...