Stuff
My closet
It’s not particularly exciting, really, it’s a rather dull thing to write about, nevertheless, here goes. We organized my closet today, bagged a bunch of shirts for Goodwill, hung the rest nice and pretty. Lauren (my assistant) is a spectacular organizer, which I like, I like things pretty. I love throwing “stuff” away, I’ll never end up on Hoarders, I don’t keep socks from when I was seven because that’s the day Elmo, my gold fish died, and so I don’t want to forget him. “Stuff,” I enjoy tossing, it’s freeing.
I keep words though, I have e-mail from 2003, I can’t trash that like “stuff” in my closet. I have first e-mails, last e-mails, from people who are gone, people I don’t want gone. I never go back and read any of them, I wouldn’t feel anything happy, but I can’t lose them. They’re things that happened, perfect little pictures of places I wanted to stay, so I keep them. I’ll never not keep them. “Stuff” isn’t important, not like words, not ever as important as, “Goodnight, I love you…”
So, I keep the words, everything else can burn for all I care.
Share me:
