Pieces. To the highest bidder.
Image by drp
I am gathering these bits and pieces of my life. Things. Stuff. Possessions. All the items that surround me, that keep me comfortable, that hold memories. And I am photographing them, tagging them, writing descriptions. All to let them go. All to the highest bidder. Parts of my life. Old and new. Substantial and small. Sold and bought, all to be sold again. It’s breaking my heart. This letting go. The thought of it, the process, it paralyzes me. Why is it we fight to hang on? Why is it so hard to let go of one’s self? It’s a jigsaw puzzle, life is. And now I am removing those pieces, one at a time. I’m starting to lose the picture. All I see are holes.
When all is said and done, what will be left? Just me, and these nearly empty rooms. Is that enlightenment? Will that be my salvation? I know, I know…..they are JUST THINGS. They are not the cause of true happiness. Then why am I saddened? Why do I fight to sit down and force myself to go through this process? Perhaps because it’s making me realize how desperate I’ve become. It’s making me face what my life is right now. No job. No money. No faith. No hope. Just panic and pain. Just debt. Just worry and sleepless nights.
I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. I feel overwhelmed. I want to run and hide. I want to sleep for a thousand years. And yet I HAVE to do this. I have no choice.
One day soon I’ll make a list. A list of the pieces of my life. And you’ll see it. Shirt and lamp and cup and frame and clock and book and trinket. Etc. All for sale. Just a few dollars.
Then you’ll all own a part of me.
Pieces.
To the highest bidder.
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