destruction

Clutter.

I have heard that how you live is a representation of yourself. How you are at home is a reflection of your inner being. This way of showing the world the part of yourself you don’t show to the world. At this current moment, at this current time, how I live in my surroundings is surrounded by clutter. Which I find rather odd. Seeing that I am a rather neat person. I can’t stand being around mess and chaos. Yet for the past couple of months, I have surrounded myself with this overly exhausting surrounding of extreme clutter.

I didn’t ask for this. It just sort of happened, then spanned out of control. Beyond my control. “I’ll get to it when I get to it”, is what I tell myself. Just save everything for tomorrow. Tomorrow comes, tomorrow goes, still the clutter remains. I’ll be completely honest, I hate it. I know this isn’t who I am. I watch the stack of papers go from 2 to 20. I watch the piles of clothes become larger and larger. Receipts seem to keep a permanent residence on the floor. Current mail and postage ready to be sent out, still stuck on chairs and tables. For whatever reason, I can’t bring myself to stick to a routine of fixing it. I watch the dust collect on the collection of things. Watch everything that has a place become the chaos that surrounds my room.

I’ll get to it when I get to it.

I wonder if this is a reflection of myself. Reflecting everything that I feel on the inside. This chaotic way of coming back to things, when I see fit. Waiting for things to happen on their own, instead of getting up and doing things. It’s been a few months of reflection and recollections. Growing up and moving on. Trying to piece back together the past, smooth out the present, to make way for the future.

No.

I am just to lazy to focus on what is in front of me. Instead of cleaning up my surroundings, I am becoming suffocated by them. Each item is taunting me, eating away at my insides. Purchases, I should have never made. Clothes, I should have put away. Every little thing has a purpose and a place, instead I am watching it collect a life form of itself. This clutter is my absolute exhaustion, silently killing me. I want to rid myself of these material things, start over as a simple minded person. Pack up all my things in boxes and give them away. I don’t need anything as much as I thought I needed it.

I don’t, I swear.

The more I stare at this clutter, the more I wonder if it’s all in my head. If every single thing I believe inside, is really a reflection of what I see on the outside. What do I know. I watch myself collect more things, to place on top of more things, to hide how I feel inside. I grow tired making up excuses for my mess when I feel like a mess inside. I guess if you’re wondering how I feel, just take a long hard look at my room. Take hold of the notebooks, novels, notes, and envelopes, collecting dust. Take note of the broken hangers and the couple pairs of shoes on the floor. Watch as the tiny pieces of paper, continue to stay stationed on the floor. It’s not because I am busy, it’s just that I don’t know anymore.

This clutter is consuming me. This clutter is taking over my life. This clutter has to go, so I can finally move on with my life.

 

What kind of man.

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You held on for as long as you needed to. Leaving all the broken pieces shattered around you. This was how you loved, this was how you expressed yourself. Breaking everything in your path that didn’t need to be broken. You were far to broken to concern yourself with decaying corpses. Still you sucked the life out of every living breathing thing, consuming yourself with the living instead of fixing up your own broken path. These were your paths and your stories. Your lives with the lies that you told to make everything whole again.

You do such damage, how do you manage?
Tryna crawl in back for more

You loved too many and you loved too much. All your mistakes transferred to every single one of those broken pieces you left scattered behind. Who was to blame for your mass destruction and chaos that lay beneath you feet. Who was to blame when you loved too much and left the lifeless to fend for themselves. The glass hearts of everyone that stood in your way, shattered and scattered once you let go. You were good with letting go just when you needed too. Just enough time to live, love, and forget everything. This was how you lived and how you loved. How you broke apart every living vessel and left the corpses of broken people behind. This was how you said you loved everything until you took everything you wanted. If this is how you love, just take it back. Take everything you said back because no man could ever hurt to the point of breaking someone.

What kind of man loves like this

I was left to fend for myself and pick up all the pieces you left behind. Because it was you that said you loved but held on just when you needed to. Letting go and watching my lifeless corpse cross the channels to find you again. Swimming through the broken shattered pieces and cutting myself deep just to reach you. I bled, I fought and I cried every fucking time because this was how you loved. My own foolish broken heart didn’t know any better but to pick up the pieces and reach you again. There you dangled my lifeless corpse and started this mess all over again. I am lifeless, I am hurt, and more than anything I am scatterbrained and broken to the touch. I watched you with a noble heart, hoping that you’d come back to find me. I sat broken in disbelief and wished that you’d see through to my broken soul.

Storms pass then you see a clearing. Somewhere along the way we watch a part of ourselves reconstruct and rebuild ourselves. Stronger, better than before. You may have broke me but you never will again. You may have loved me but you never will again. No man should every hurt the ones they love. No man should ever break the paths of broken people. What kind of man loves like this, is the kind of man that will always be broken.

You will not break me again.

9/15/2012