Goodbye Old Friend
There are a few reasons why I don’t like tidying my room up, and I’m sure that whoever you are (unless you’re one of them people off a home improvement show who hates clutter) you’ll understand them all. One is that I hate tidying in general, another is that I always uncover massive spiders that hide there deliberately, and another is because of memories. For me, stuff and material possessions has always signified memories. They accumulate, sit there, and when you finally disturb them you unleash a force which gets right to you at the back of your brain. Suddenly you’re backed into a corner: think about the memories or put-off thinking about them and think about them later. I usually just clear my stuff up then; if I’ve already had to think about these memories then putting it off is futile and I’ll only have to do the same again later, thus compounding the emotion!
Last Wednesday, the memory that got to me belonged to an old useless mobile phone. I found it under the bed, next to some Crafts Fabric , and fortunately no spider was nestling on the keypad waiting to put its foot on me and make me bang my head. The phone had been given to me by a friend who moved away to the other side of the world. He always did have a thing about practical jokes, and he must have known that it didn’t work. Still, I like to think it was also a souvenir of our communication, maybe. Something to say that our friendship was worth the money we spent on Pay as you go top-ups.
He was a good friend, but alas we don’t speak any more – some friendships just die out like that, and it’s a natural thing that you can do nothing about.
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