I've been unemployed for a while now, and if I don't find a job soon, I'll have to move by the end of the month, into my friend's tiny spare room. I've started packing, doubtful that the job market that's been so abbysmal for months will heal in the next two weeks.
I've moved so many times in my life. Some of these boxes weren't even unpacked from the last move. A couple boxes have been carried to three or four different places without even being opened. So why do I keep bringing them with me? Obviously I don't need what's inside. I only think I do. I'm just afraid of the day I might need it and not be able to find it.
But if those things were really what I needed, I wouldn't be sitting here in a puddle of failure yet again, right? Maybe those things in those boxes are just weighing me down. Maybe holding on to things in the past that I don't need, are what's holding me back. I don't know. Maybe I'm just trying to get something meaningful out of this crap experience, when really it doesn't mean much of anything. Just another piece of human flotsam floating along the sea.