At least once a month I get this big idea in my mind to just throw away all of my things that I own. All the VHS tapes and DVDs. The weird books and records that litter my shelves collecting dust. The drawers filled with random small things that I just might use one day. A few things run through my mind when I'm having these moments. One is the freedom that would come with owning nothing. Moving would simple, and no one could steal things I don't own. I could travel with a backpack and it would be enough to hold everything I own. I wouldn't have to look at all of these things, all of the time.
The second thing I think about is my Nana. She has a two story house filled with her things. I think they're all beautiful, and shes got a neat little story to go with everything. Like the cookie jar in her kitchen from the 1930's that used to be her mothers. Or the magazines in her basement that she got when she was in her twenties. Her book collection is massive too, and shes read mostly all of them.
I really want to own nothing, and in turn stop buying new things just to own them. It's a very bizarre concept, to own something. I still own all of my things, stuffed animals from childhood, up to a sweater I bought a year ago, and a new lamp that a co-worker gave to me. These things are nice or important to the story of my life in one weird way or another, so I hold onto them.
I've had the idea in my head to get rid of my things many, many times, but I still sit here with all of the things. I have never actually done a full toss out of all everything. Some of my things I haven't touched in years, so would I really miss that object if I donated it to a thrift store? When I die in the future, even if something is placed in my coffin with me, if I'm in a coffin, that doesn't follow the memories I have of that object into the darkness, it simply just exists within a box with a rotting corpse. My memory of the object is forever lost and the object doesn't exist in a place where someone can have it.
The fact that nothing lasts forever is horrifying. My VHS tape with the very first power rangers episode on it that I have had since I was kid will be gone within a century I would assume. The things that I find beautiful, magical, and special to me about that small tape will never be able to be captured for someone else to understand. So I hold onto these things within this false mindset that having the object means something.
My grandmother in Montreal has Alzheimers. After my grandfather died, it was just her inside the house with her dog Lucky. She had a whole household of things, and then slowly she started faded away. All of her memories are mashed up and broken, and some lost forever. All of the things in her house where sold or given away, minus a few items which she now has at her nursing home. The memories of the objects are gone. The physical objects are gone. This beautiful woman who lived a whole life and had all of these things isn't even herself in her body anymore.
Nothing lasts forever, and it scares the shit out of me. Maybe that's why I hold onto these things. Maybe that's why I can never get rid of them, even though I kind of want to.