“The universe will not give you what’s not yours.” –Maya McClean
Fiction. Based on a True Hoarding Problem.
By Nikki Wicz
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional
I have always been a hoarder.
it began with those little velvet bears. The ones you find at craft stores?
I had one in each color that I kept in my closet.
I can never remember if they ended up
lost, or trashed, sold at garage sales
or maybe, buried in the backyard
in tiny graves.
I replaced them with rubber balls with
marbled colors; never to be bounced.
They sat in plastic tupperware until they too
vanished into my memory.
When tiny things started taking up
my space, bits in every corner,
I threw out as much as I could,
but it felt like nothing had gone.
I still had too much.
And I couldn’t remember
everything that belonged to me:
Friend’s birthdays, homework assignments,
hours in the day. It was all neatly packaged
in the back of my head, just far enough
that my fingers could graze it, but
not grab on.
So I made lists.
to remember, until I started
hoarding those too, and then
I had words upon words becoming
meaningless and jumbled, and I
was just hoarding myself
behind closed doors, and under
sheets, so no one else could have me.
I had hoped I might
end up on TV with some disgusted
and delighted relative, just so eager
to purge me of my problem, but I guess
I was never extreme enough, or maybe,
it’s because I don’t know many of my
Instead, I’m attempting to fill myself
like the empty journals on my shelves.
To fill myself with stories, and love,
and relationships,and chai tea. Until I’ve hoarded,
like a dragon, the things that will help me