clean your room
Sometimes it’s true. Sometimes you do just need to clean your room. I remember once in my first year at university I had my friend Oliver stay in my room. When I came back he had cleaned it, thinking he had returned the favour. When in actuality I was really pissed.
Theres so much in the act of putting all those things that have lost their place back into their place. I find that I get a lot of thinking done that way. I look through my clothes, and flick through the memories which I had sewed into them. Decide if I want to hold on to them, put them away. Repeat. I find letters and trickiest and gifts and receipts from dinners and I archive them into my memory box, vowing that one day I’ll make that art piece or something or whatnot.
I’m a real collector. I have a million trinkets. I’m somewhat of a magpie. I like shiny things. I love to nest. My room is a graveyard for everything I’ve ever loved.
Last week I had interacted with 3 different ex’s. Let me not say it lightly when I say it was an emotional rollercoaster. I went for a drink with one and I’m still reflecting on how I feel about it. I mostly feel good. I now have lots to write about. We never did get married, but at least he’s always given me something to write about.
My room is now clean. My mind is now clear. I’m glad I never married any of them. Well maybe except one. I’ll write more tomorrow.