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pretty comma pointless comma empty
I am about halfway done packing up my art studio. I am struck with how little feeling I have for my multitude of "things". And when I do feel something, it's just an obligation to keep it because it was a gift, or it meant something to someone that no longer exists, or it makes me sad because it's a reminder of sadness.
I have a small amount of lovely photo frames that I have collected over my years of thrift store shopping, and they have no photos in them. I kept telling myself that I would print out some of the old photos of my parents that my brother sent me digitally, or my husband and I would go out and do a photo shoot and send prints to people we know and I'd put a one of those in a frame, or I'd meet someone, someday soon that I would be friends with and there would be a nice memory at some point to put in a frame. But no. They are empty. They will always be empty. That is my life. A lot of beautiful things that serve no real purpose. They should have a use, but they don't in my life. Because I don't stick to the script and I don't live like I am supposed to, and there are consequences to that.
Bags and bags and boxes and boxes and so many trips to the donation center in the past few months. I'm giving it all away. I might regret it. It might be the best thing I've ever done. I don't know. All I do know is I can't be here anymore. I can't live this life with these pretty, pointless, empty things.
8:04 PM - Sunday, Mar. 01, 2020
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