Playing in My Own Closet

Playing in my own closet.

Like a child playing dress up.

Like an adult looking for the perfect costume for Halloween at a vintage store.

My life is what I make of it.

I will not let these items own me.

I will not let this cluttered mess dictate to me who I am.

I am so much more than these items.

They weight me down,

And sink my ship.

They eat my saving account.

And what for?

Another pair of shoes I think I need.

Playing in my closet.

I find the truth.

I find my own insecurities hiding in the shadows.

I find my compulsive shopping gene.

And learned behaviors.

I see mental illness.

The skeletons were removed,

But cobwebs still remain.

I organize my life into Keep, Sell, Donate bins.

Only I can make this change.

Only I can learn from my own mistakes.

Only I can play in my closet and determine what is worth saving and what should be given away.

My closet is a thrift store.

Come on in and get lost for a moment.

*This poem is featured in "Peeling Sanity."

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