on being a stuff person

When I helped my friend move out, I was amazed at how much she'd accumulated in her room in four years. She had all her necessities in that small space--and unnecessities. It was space full of stuff. Stuff like a plastic SpongeBob keychain that must've come with a fast food meal, half-used notebooks with the blank pages to write in, class handouts and paper menus from restaurants. Stuff that makes you constantly ask, if you're just helping out, "Can I throw this away or not?"

Well, maybe not if you're a non-stuff person. Those things are on the borderline only when you're a stuff person who collects and keeps, like a hamster getting ready for winter. If you're a stuff person, you can call nothing trash. Everything has its own memory. Nothing is completely worthless. Who knows, I might use this tomorrow, next week, or--years later.

But the truth is, you won't. You will never use it or even really pull it out of the drawer that's always full until your next move when you spend a few minutes wondering if it should go to the trash bag. It should, usually, and if you can't make up your mind, a non-stuff person around you will with a head shake and a desperate sigh.

I know this very well, because I'm a stuff person, too, even though I tried to pretend I wasn't at my friend's apartment. I shook my head and threw things away like I was used to doing that, but there was always a moment of hesitation when I picked up something and looked at it. Looking, I guess, is bad already. Non-stuff people don't look. They just pick and throw. That's what our other friend did (or could), and without her, we might still be cleaning the room.

I came home that day, and was shocked my room looked just like my friend's, only without the typical mess before a move. It was full of stuff. It scared me to think about the day I needed to move out of this room. It kept bothering me for a few days, so I finally decided to clean my room. Or more like throw things away. I went through piles of paper I had in the corner of my room, books, letters. The trash was filled immediately, and there seems to be a bit more space in this small room; and yet I know there are drawers that haven't been checked, boxes not yet opened. They probably contain more unnecessary stuff--but then, who knows it's unnecessary? After all, we humans have thrown away too much; that's why we're recycling now, isn't it?