Defragmenting

I'm eliminating "should" from my vocabulary, like Angie said in Espresso Expose months and months ago. Apropos. It's sinking in. Basing my life on "shoulds" has thus far been anything but fruitful. I'm not the same person I was. Present fights the past, fears the future, etc. I've been messy like this for months and months.

I know why, too. I live in fragments. I am different between sueded sheets than between aisles in a supermarket. I morph somewhere between the telephone lines and text messages. Transforming for each setting, different on different buses; 6: stand-offish, 3: polite, 14: razor-edged, 16: exhausted. I'm setting up Christmas trees, decomposing them in a time lapse. Sifting through cardigans I can't afford and woven sterling silver bracelets I'll buy anyway. I would order everyone something beautiful, if I could. Stackable rings or 1000 thread count sheets or a self-portrait by Belenciaga. An animal to love.

But I'm two knees deep in layers and layers of messes I've made. Things I've stomped, beautiful things I've purchased only for myself. Cigarette butts and empty coffee cups. Old albums, different versions of myself, cat litter, fleece tied blankets. Other peoples' sweatshirts that only smell like me. I accumulate and consume mechanically. It divides me into all of these different people, and I can change attitudes faster than I can rip myself from my jeans (and that's some record time, broseph).