Fearing Regret

Two years ago, my sister and I got new carpet in. And now we just found out that our batch of carpet was defective. So we’re getting it replaced. It’s excellent except for the fact that it means I have to clean out the contents of my room and move out all the furniture.

As I organize the many bits and pieces of my room, sorting everything out into labeled cardboard boxes, I have realized how much of it is so unnecessary to my everyday life. Some of these unnecessary items have sentimental value. But still others are seemingly devoid of such value. And yet I still have trouble filling up my wastebasket with these superfluous things.

I think what I fear is that if I throw something away, I’ll remember it some day in the not-so-distant future and regret it. And so to avoid that possibility, I keep stuff. Stuff that clutters my room and emits vibes that sometime contradict each other.

My room is half-empty now. There are boxes and boxes with handwritten index-card labels. Framed things. Display goodies. Yarn. Photography equipment. Bags and purses. Books.

I like my room when it is clean and empty and purged like this. But it can’t stay like this because I’m so effing scared of regret.

What we give up for fear.

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~ by thechanster on 5:00 pm, Thursday, July 24, 2008.

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