The joy underneath

Life has become increasingly difficult these past few years. Once more I feel the need to divest.

Accumulating stuff seldom makes me happy beyond a certain point. The things dearest to me are those with some sort of sentimental attachment and even these things do not embody the person. It is the memories that do that.

Hours have passed this week without me even noticing. Sleep overtakes me when I least expect it and evades me when I lie down in the silence. My mind is not at peace.

Holding onto things through fear does not make me happy. Fear that some day I will want a coat like this, or shirt like that. Fear that I will not have enough money to replace things if I gain or lose weight. Fear that people will think I am poor because I wear the same clothing too often.

I do not want to keep things to impress other people. I only want to keep things that enrich my life.

Maybe if I clear away enough stuff I will rediscover the joy underneath.