In this whole journey of purging unnecessary things, I never realized how many things I kept. OKAY LIES. I have realized how many things I’ve kept, my closet and room are true testaments of that notion. Materialistically, I keep everything. Anything you can see with the naked eye. However upon going through some old email accounts (yes I have various email accounts), I never realized how much crap I keep electronically. It’s amazing what you can do with unlimited storage space! It’s one thing to go through 1908 emails of junk mail but 2000 emails of the past? It’s time to move on.
They say to move on you have to reevaluate why you kept these things to begin with. It’s easy to put an emotion behind an article of clothing, or a lifetime of moments. Its the memories that wrap around the items, but what emotion can you bring forth with an email? After going through my email accounts the past year, I realized I was holding on to everything. I don’t just mean old Who What Wear emails, I literally mean everything. I’ve kept mean emails, sad emails, photos that I didn’t have the heart to show anyone let alone delete, receipts for just about anything you can think of. I’ve used my email as a scrapbook of bullshit. If my closets were a scrapbook of my debts, my emails were a scrapbook of my life on the web. I could just easily delete everything. Delete every malicious thing I have ever read about myself but something keeps me holding on to it. It’s like the constant emails I get from every store I’ve shopped at. Some of these stores I haven’t set foot in for years but their emails still fill my inbox. I don’t shop there. I can’t remember the last item of whatever clothing I wore from there but something keeps me subscribed. This weird psychological bullshit feeling that I need this. Holding on to these things will make me stronger.
We all know how that ends.
I didn’t need the clothes to make me happy. I didn’t need the debts that accumulated after all those purchases. I sure as hell don’t need an email from a person telling me what a fuck up I am. Besides, I am awesome, I don’t need an old email to tell me differently.
With that stated. Goodbye old emails. Goodbye old chats. Goodbye old photographs that only make me more upset. Goodbye old stores I haven’t shopped at since the early 2000. Goodbye to you for wasting all my time. Goodbye to all that.