by Marla Klein
I hung up so many prints and pictures,
I painted my ceiling with all kinds of colors and characters,
I hung up garlands and fairy lights,
sorted my books and CDs by color,
bought fake vines and tapestries.
There is not an empty inch on my wall,
no space for an updated picture of my current friend group.
I hate the pictures I see, people I no longer talk to,
me with long hair,
pictures of artist and heroes that I don’t like anymore,
packages of food I don’t eat anymore.
I used to feel good in my room,
now every time I enter it, I feel suffocated.
Pictures of moments I don’t want to remember make me feel overwhelmed
I can’t breathe, my head is spinning and what I see is one colorfully blur
I can’t hang myself because there is no space to hang things anymore
I dream of strangling myself with the star garland hanging on the corner in my room,
I bet the metal stars would be sharp enough to slit my wrist.
Minimalism isn’t for me, It feels like being in a rubber room, empty walls are in my worst nightmares,
It feels like hovering in an endless white-walled-void.
But I grew out of maximalism the colorful prints make me go crazy
I want to rip them all of, but I am afraid too,
The mountain of trash, prints, artwork and pictures of old friends would get to me
I would beat myself up for making that pile of trash my whole personality for 3 years
© Marla Klein 2023-08-14