You were filling up my home till there was no more room left for me. I was slowly suffocating from all the things that you kept buying and bringing from elsewhere, never throwing anything away, even when it was run down, broken or useless.
Now, I am slowly taking back control of my life and of my space: slowly, I'm emptying one room after another, throwing the useless and the broken and the grime away. And slowly I can breathe again. I can find my way in my things again. Slowly, I am pushing back what you would consider useful into corners, into rooms, into spaces that I will have to deal with later.
But for now, one room after another, I am taking back what was unreachable and unenjoyable because of all the stuff that was in the way. One room after another, I am going back down to the rafters, to the subfloor, until I can finish that room till it is completely done. Completely done, easy to clean, easy to enjoy, easy on the eyes.
One room after another, I am taking my life back, so I can enjoy what I have and from there, move forward.
You don't remember how long we have been together. You don't remember my birthday. You don't remember how many cats I have at home. My heart is so broken...
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