A few weeks ago the neighbor children came to my bedroom door, which is an exterior door, and asked to play with my father. Apparently he found them poking the beehive with sticks and so he gave them each a drone to take home and now they are all best friends. You should know that my Dad is best friends with everyone, instead of favoring interesting or age appropriate or like minded people like most people do. Anyway, I was lying in bed watching the exchange and Dad went off to grab something for Show and Tell (maybe the bee bonnet?) so they turned their attention to me. "How old is you?" asked a very little boy. "15?" the other suggested. I told them my age. "You coulda BEEN moved out!" "Well, yeah, I guess."
I will be 18 and 11/12 when I finally move out- school starts on 9/22, I turn on 10/23. I did second grade twice. (In other words, I coulda been moved out.)
I'm in the process of reducing my collections by taking out the things I hate, and there's so much of it! I filled a garbage bag with clothes I hate and 6 paper grocery bags with books I hate. I was originally going to be hardcore and only keep the things I love but all I couldn't find anything because I am enlightened and don't cling to posessions. Also I don't have very nice stuff. Why do I accumulate things I hate?
I actually think it might be a way of insulating and anchoring myself. "I am a person, look at all of those items that I have purchased or handled!I exist!" Also, anyone who looks at my room will see a massive collection of items but not know which ones are important, which ones define my interests and, to an extent, me. I feel sort of naked with my nearly empty shelves holding only my Japanese textbooks, borrowed books, and glimpses of my soul. I think too much? Well, maybe next time I won't take a 6 hour nap in the afternoon.