While cleaning out my closet I discovered a number of things that alarmed me and calmed me. First of all I found a pretty full bottle of chocolate syrup. Not sure what the fuck I was doing with that. And then I found a tin of treasure! Which wasn’t as exciting as I wanted it to be. But, nonetheless, amazing! I found some fortunes in a jar of coins I forgot I had; a costume collection that just keeps growing, and of course what amounts to three or four loads of laundry! And now that my closet is clean; the rest of my space is cluttered.

Now, isn’t that the way that the world works in general, in a metaphorical sense? When you spend the best years of your life hiding who you are and you finally drag all of that out of the closet; now you have a mess of your public image intermingled with what you hide from the room. I’ve worn my crazy on my sleeve since day 2, I don’t open up often and when I do I pretty much regret it; every time. But, if I could just be me all the time and not regret it I feel that life would just be that much easier. If I could just wear my costumes as I want to, instead of when it is “allowed” I could express myself more clearly. I wouldn’t mind walking around town wearing over the knee boots paired with a long skirt, lacy top and a masquerade mask with a nerf on my hip and a fox tail on my belt. Do I really care if people stare? Not really; I pretty much dress like that all year round. Fuck Halloween. I am a character; I don’t just play one in the movies. Okay, I guess the fox tail and the mask only come out on special occasions, and the nerf for parties, but, really. A staple in my wardrobe is a belt that jingles! Actually my Halloween costume this last year was that of a normal girl wearing a black dress, fox tail and a boulder hat with a nerf gun holstered at my waist. I was a gangster fox or something, nobody asked; and nobody asked “what the fox say” without shots fired.

There is just something so hard in admitting that we all keep a part of ourselves hidden away like we hide our messes in our closets. I opened a shoe box from the very back of my closet that contained items from my first boyfriend! I was shocked and quickly closed the box and put it back. A bonfire is in order! We all carry things with us that even we prefer to leave behind. A hidden side to ourselves; our closets. This hidden box of things that we conceal and carry around with us as reminders to ourselves of what we want and don’t want for ourselves. The locket we would prefer be melted shut, but, alas, we carry it around our neck and check the contents periodically to ensure we are on the right path. Or, maybe, we don’t even realize we are carrying these things around, such as my memory box containing an item of clothing from the first guy I ever told “I love you” too. Maybe they are sealed away until a time when we are able to handle the contents from within.

I believe I carried that box with me to later on prove to myself that I never actually let go of my ex. Not in the way you are all thinking at this point. I have dated this guy many of times since we broke up, all in the forms of new beaus. Insecure, jealous, unsure men with which I spend a year or more with attempting to bring up their confidence levels so that I may finally enjoy being in the relationship. I have tried so hard to disassociate myself from these kinds of men, but, I always jump in head first like an idiot. In the beginning they are always kind and sweet; Wayne would pick me up for a date, at the ripe age of fifteen, with an energy drink and occasionally a bouquet of flowers. They always appear so confident, maybe even cocky; Dean used to strut around like a rooster for all the ladies but get very unnerved when I would complain about the asshole at work using the typical “I’m an asshole; look at me!” approach to flirting, he actually came into my work once EEEK. Vincent; he used to get pissed off at me when men flirted with me, anywhere, and we had agreed to an open relationship. And this was all just the men from before I was old enough to drink.

I’ve gotten better at spotting them, but, I still make mistakes. Something else I noticed while cleaning my closet; it’s cold in there and I can completely sympathize with small children afraid of what is behind the closet door. An extra room in your bedroom where you are not supposed to play. What exactly is behind that door? It is a place in your house that you don’t use for living. In the beginning of my teenage years, my mother got so mad at me because I took the fan doors off of my closet to utilize the space. It became a library; an entertainment center; and for a small portion of time the head of my bed was squeezed in there! When she finally came around to the concept and saw what could be done with the storage space, if you used it, she did the same in my little brother’s room; though, he ended up with visible storage instead of extra space. She also got mad at me once for turning my single bedroom into a three room space; I created angles and it obscured her view into my bedroom so she could no longer check to see if I was breathing at night. I had an entry way, an art studio and a bedroom all squeezed into my very small room. She saw me as abnormal; the only storage I had was under my bed. I guess, I’ve never been one for hiding rooms of storage about myself.

I encourage everyone to take the moments that they need to go into their metaphorical closets; to go into yourself and to at least see what you carry with you and how that mirrors with what you have. Actually, just clean your closet out; see what you literally carried with you! The key to happiness does not come in having what you want, but in wanting what you have!

**Names have been changed**