Depression Talk

I’m moving back home in three short days. I’m slightly terrified, not because I’ll be living back under the same roof as my parents, but because before I move there I need to put all the things I own into receptacles for ease of transport.

Other people refer to this phenomenon as packing.

I had to move last year as well, and while it wasn’t as stressful as I thought it would be, it was certainly an eye opening experience. During this experience known as packing, I found out that I hoard things, which I wasn’t aware that I did until then.

That’s the funny thing about Insanity. New Crazies keep popping up at you from out of the woodwork. Or, in this case, from the recesses of your shelves and drawers and closets.

I found out last year that I purchase things in mass quantities and then put them away for later. I found what should have been a lifetime supply of pens and hair barrettes, underneath winter sweaters and below my microwave, stuck into drawers that I never used because they were too full of other junk.

I made it my goal this year to only purchase and go through one twelve pack of Bic pens. It was a very difficult year that was full of anxiousness and hysteria because DEAR GOD, WHAT IF I LOST A PEN BEFORE IT HAD BEEN USED TO THE POINT OF BEING DRY? And so this year, rather than focusing on the quantity of pens I own, I focused on using each and every pen down to the point that it had no more ink to write with, nothing more in the depths of its soul to give to me.

My brother noticed this one day when I was working on an essay. For some reason he was looking at my pen and noticed that the ink was at the point where you could no longer see it. As an expert, however, I was well aware that I could get another four or five pages out of it. He examined it and looked at me.

“Hey! Don’t throw that pen out!”

“Why not? There’s no more ink left in it.”

“Yes there is! I can get like, another hour’s worth of writing out of that!”

“Why the Hell do you know how many hours you can get out of a pen?”

“Look, you just can’t throw out a pen before it’s completely done, ok?”

“Why?”

“Because then you wouldn’t get all the ink out of it AND THAT WOULD MAKE THE WORLD STOP SPINNING. Now, give me back my pen.”

“Wow, you really are kinda crazy.” *Tosses pen back in my direction.*

Yes. I have to say that yes I am. But at least this year I won’t be surprised by finding three hundred and twenty seven pens stored about in an odd conglomoration of places about my house.

Amanda