Lost and found

12:52 PM

Not my closet.
Nothing trumps the feeling of bringing home some new clothes. While they are supposed to compliment some vintage pieces, new pieces allow you to slowly forget about the older "what was I thinking" stuff that turns into...nothing but stuff.

What happens to what is now known as crap? It winds up in the bottom drawer, in the back of the closet or in the pile for Goodwill. New clothes are a sign of progress, and a challenge for the buyer to be more. More of a woman, more of a lover. More of a bitch.

So why is it when you're looking for a matching shoe, you come across some old shyt? Shyt that you eventually got out of your head. Shyt that forces you to gaze at the wall with no picture, as you remember the good times. Or the bad. Them old pieces stare back at you on some "let's pick up where we left off five years ago. You know me, and I definitely know you."

But it's been so long...and who the hell are you to just show up out of nowhere -- no offense to my bottom drawer or closet rear. These places aren't just nowhere when it comes to making room for the new. There is a purpose for everything, it's the everyone that I cannot make any room for.

Look at that mofo, creeping up on my monitor like that. Tallin'bout "gimme a call". What am I supposed to do with him after all this time?

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