I was just “remembering” how all my life, i’ve had this some sort of “condescendence” towards anything and all in existence. Like, for example.. I’m trying to recover this paintbrush that I “accidentally” left with glue of some sort in it, and so, I’m trying to dissolve that with alcohol… and then thought, oh gee poor paintbrush what would’ve he felt being abandoned with this stuff stuck in its hairs… and then I remembered how I gave things like that same treat that a pet could’ve had for example… like when something broke I would realy think they experienced pain, and no matter how my mother or anyone else said, “but it’s just a thing, it isn’t alive!” I would ignore that and then react in feelings towards that something that I deemed to be alive… usually happened when stuff got spoiled, ruined, broken, mistreated, etc. Like objects that I have in my room, were “special” so they got to share the space in my room with me, me being aware of them occupying the same space as me and being with me. That kind of thoughts… I guess I could like this to giving some “value” to stuff… I am looking right now at all the stuff I have around me, all brought and bought by me. I could easily litter half of it all, it’s all stuff! blunt stuff, ornaments, feeling-attached stuff… what’s the use for it now? And I realize that I don’t want to get rid of ti because, those freaking stuff cost a certain amount of money, therefore, “I can’t get rid of them”. How odd. but this is true… and how I placed a meaning in every single thing I have. for example, I’ve got lots of those metal tin boxes.. and antiques and candles… and whatnot! cd’s… oh gee.. books those books all related to my “spiritual ascension” my tarot card deck, cool it’s got klimt painting in it, otherwise, it would’ve been useless lol. . . wait, they are useless…. And maybe I am judging myslef in how much I am judging having all these objects and stuff around me.
I also consider I had this thing, just copied from mother I realize, the horroris vacui thing… meaning, the fear of emptyness, the fear of white walls and all empty.. minimalism: my worst enemy then… lol . Baroque, my style some said… filling each and every single corner with some “detail” to look at, and this is linked to the visual vicious stuff. Like wanting to have something to “look at” something I could “appreciate” while doing nothing. And from that starting point, I got to be filled with useless shit now.
So I go like… hmm.. should I clear it all? I mean, now I got used to the white walls in this apartment, and I enjoy them… but even my room, holy molly, filled with stuff… like….. all those cushions around my bed and , yep, simplicity isn’t here in terms of objects around me.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to think, believe or perceive that objects could make a place feel cozy
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to place a thought or feeling to each and every single thing/object that I own and have around me in this apartment.
I forgive myself that I accepted and allowed myself to desire having all corners filled with anything in order to make it nice to watch upon
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to think, believe and perceive that objects had to be with me because it was their own decition to share the same space with me, therefore me believing that all I own and have, had to be with me for specific reason or purpose
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to think, believe or perceive that I have horroris vacui, therefore, existed within and as the need, desire and want for things, specific things to fill the “void” of this place in order to make it more comfortable, nice-looking and cozy.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to think, believe or perceive that things and objects desired to be with me for certain specific reason or function.
I forgive myself that I accepted and allowed myself to place everyday a new fresh glass of water next to my bed in order to keep me “safe” from evil spirits that could harm me during my sleep.
I forgive myself that I accepted and allowed myself to have the hebrew alphabet in some paper because of my thought and belief in this particular alphabet having some “sacred” property just by the pronunciation of each letter, such belief coming from my brief incursion in Kabbalah.
I forgive myself that I accepted and allowed myself to think, believe and perceive that having an eye on gold in my left wrist would keep me safe from the evil eye /bad vibes coming from other people, and that it could “protect me” from all that could harm me in one moment.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to desire wanting to keep things that could signify a specific moment in time, such as a memory, in order to make me “remember” what I went through in my life.
I forgive myself that I acepted and allowed myself to collect each cork of each wine I ever drank of
I forgive myself that I accepted and allowed myself to keep and collect the rings of cans in order to make an “ornament” with it.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to keep chocolate wraps in order to collect them because of my thought or belief that I will use them for something in the future.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to keep coffee bean wraps because of my thought or belief that I will use them in the future to do something artistic.
I forgive myself that I accepted and allowed myself to desire having an antique tin box collection because I deemed those objects as being special, because of the “history” they seem to be telling.
I forgive myself that i accepted and allowed myself to attach some sentimental value to certain specific objects that seem just like any other, but for some thought and reason I decided to place in them, they became special.
So basically, the need to preserve and keep all this apparent insignificant objects, was because of me wanting to place a “special significance” in my life, in the objects that were there at some specific moment in my life that I deemed as “something to remember of” or something to preserve, to keep. This all comes from the much ingrained idea that we were memories that all you really would keep from this life, when coming of age, was going to be memories, nothing else but memories. So… from that starting point, I got now to the place I am, filled with stuff all over the place that I could REALLY get rid of if only i didn’t see money spent in all that. So it all boils down to, now once desiring to get rid of memories: money.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to desire wanting and needing to preserve and keep all these things and stuff around me because of the amount of money I spent on them at some certain specific time in my life.
These days I’ve been feeling “SOMETHING” inside my head, like something I can’t describe but… yeah ok i won’t fuck it with thoughts
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to think, believe or perceive that this “something” inside my head is creating a change, a notable change in my experience every day, making myself more aware of what goes in my mind.
There’s no such thing I enjoy the most but being alone, certainly. Nothing else.