boxes

And boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes of books.

This has been my day. I have been going through and organizing my books, feeling overwhelmed, putting them in boxes, feeling overwhelmed, realizing that I will never be able to read all of the books that I own, feeling overwhelmed, wondering how I amassed so many books, feeling overwhelmed, started reading at least seven books while I was in the middle of organizing, feeling overwhelmed, and finally I am taking a break. No more feeling overwhelmed today. I need to go on a cruise or something. Will someone surprise me with a trip to a Sandals Beach Resort? Tonight. I'll go tonight. And why is "resort" such a strange word to me right now? Probably because everything is strange to me right now. Why can't I have just one normal day where I, like, eat chips and watch a sports game? Why must I always assume the role of tortured, outsider artist? Neuroticism was a fun and quirky personality trait to have in my 20s. But I'm 30 now. Bring on the stability and levelheadedness, please.

At least I hoard books, right? I could be collecting boxes and boxes and boxes full of lint or toenail clippings or human teeth. But I'm not. Although the human teeth collection sounds kind of rad. Anyway, I should give myself a break. I should also give away at least a box or two of my books. Any takers? I am a very good collector, you can trust me and my taste in the written word. Just don't trust me to balance anything heavy, such as boxes or emotions.

Now go outside and read.