1999 Toyota Camry. Sold. Cobalt Blue Road Bike. Sold. Quad fin surfboard, skateboards, and acoustic guitar. The not so rare possessions of an American male. All sold or given away.
It’s funny. When you clear out 90% of the items you own, you notice just how much “stuff” you have.
Stuff: A random clutter of items kept for no reason, but are still held blindly by their owner.
It’s almost sentimental, going through your room, picking and choosing items you don’t need. You look at all the bullshit posters, keychains, and free t-shirts you’ve accumulated, and begin to rationalize why you may need them in the future. It becomes increasingly emotional and less and less logical. These items are the kids you don't have.
“Well, I’ve had this Thrasher skateboarding magazine since I was 13, I should probably keep it so I can look back on it in five years.”
“...but this is the shirt I got my first tattoo in. I think I can still smell the ink. I’ll push it to the back of the drawer.”
A strange thing happens when you say fuck it and go against this comfort-seeking voice in your head. Tossing these items in the trash bin becomes freeing. I found myself at work thinking about what I would throw away next when I got home.
There is an empty space in my brain where these physical things once resided. The ball and chain has been defragmented. I have now chosen to fill that space with experiences and memories. Places and people. My focus here on out is traveling and working to sustain my new lifestyle.
I have one key left on my keychain. July 10th I will return this house key to my landlord and won’t look back as I walk away, completely homeless. With everything I own in my backpack and a huge grin across my face. Thumbs up, I’ll be treading lightly.