How To Erase Yourself

I'm spending the day cleaning out my old apartment. It hasn't been easy. I've had to be supremely detached and cold. So far there are 7 bags of garbage, and the job is only half done.

It's just stuff, I keep repeating to myself.

The first piece of 'adult' furniture I purchased, so proudly, in 1997? Gone.

Those bedside tables that I refinished? Garbage.

Birthday cards from up to 10 years ago? Bye.

A thousand memories, all sorted through and divided into two piles: the stuff I am permanently letting go, and the stuff I will bag tightly and put into storage. And all this sorting and leaving things behind feels really familiar to me, not in the good way, but in the numb mechanical way in which allowed me to survive this before.

It's just stuff. It's just stuff. It's just stuff.


g8s said...

This probably sounds sick to you, but I'm so jealous of what you're doing. I dream of tossing out almost everything I own, of being free from the weight of it all. I still don't envy you the bedbug ordeal, but is there even a small part of you that is enjoying this 'fresh start'?

ridiculous said...

in my more positive moments, yes. and i guess this can be kind of freeing. thanks for the reframing!

The_Gator said...

just one question seen as i have not yet experienced moving much and am still sucking from my moms tit (figuratively not literally) whats the difference between 'adult' furniture and regular furniture?