I have spent a day or two clearing the apartment of all sorts of objects and material we managed to gather over the years in order to gain extra space to do activities, and I once again realized how easy it is to chuck the possessions of others but mine.
I am not a crazy old lady, I merely feel that stuff I collect has its value and others collect crap.
At the age of 10 I was already spending my very hard earned pocket money on fashion magazines which would provide all the essential information on my potential best friends, colleagues, bosses or rivals from the fashion world I so desperately desired to be a part of. The same fashion magazines I would still own if my little sister had not disposed of them as a vengeaful way how to teach me a lesson. I am sorry but the kitsch stuffed toys our former bedroom was plagued with were irritating me senseless for years. It was only a matter of time until she would finally let her guard down, or just leave for school I was so successfully ditching. Come to think of it, it did not work out for me at all in the end.
For years I tried very hard to understand why some fluorescent earthworms, annoyingly colourful parrots, deviated monkeys or poorly designed puppies could possibly mean so much to her that she would eventually resort to a capital crime which was tossing my priceless magazines with no hesitation, that little cold-hearted bitch. I however have come to a conclusion, also with the help of weekly therapy sessions, that the tasteless parrot did have some emotional value as well as my long lost magazines. Sigh.
I quite vividly remember holding them tight, taking in the sweet smell of printable fashion, making sure they are safe at all times and providing them with good home full stop. Considering I understand the recycle circle, somebody out there is probably wiping his body parts with the bits and pieces of my irreplaceable children. Damn you, Damn you, Daaaaaamn you!
I am glad the anger management lessons are paying off.
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