I did it. I deleted my fucking Facebook account.  Like, not deactivated, but totally deleted.

I feel free. Free from all the politics and whining and pictures of dinners and invites to events I’ll never go to…free from scrolling through bullshit and being fully aware that it’s all bullshit…free to use my time more wisely!

Well…it’ll be officially deleted after 14 days per the Facebook powers that be.  It’s weird how everyone nowadays corresponds through Facebook and they’re baffled that I’m over it.  Like people genuinely think they’ll never talk to me again. 
I’m not too concerned that I’m losing something substantial.  The people that want to find me will find me…and we’ll have a grand time!  The people that don’t, won’t even notice I’m gone. 




Ahh simplicity.  Why is it so daunting?  Why is there always clutter??

I just want all my material possessions to disappear.  I feel like I carry them around with me all day long, like I can feel their weight on my shoulders.

Why now?  Why do I care?  Why does it matter??

It’s always mattered…but much like other things in my life, I’ve neglected to honor that it matters to me.  I’ve been the one to put aside my needs and to just fucking ‘deal with it.’

The trouble with physical clutter is that it leads to mental clutter and chaos.  It leads to having blinders on to all your surroundings and floating through your space as if you don’t even belong there. 

I feel like a stranger in my home.  I feel like I haven’t been able to truly live how I want to and like to because I’m working around trying to not be that way. 

Well, here it is.  I’m a fucking minimalist.  I fucking love organization.  I’m a little obsessive about it.  I’m a fucking control freak.  I want to rid myself of all this extra baggage.

I find it unnecessary.  I admit, there was a time when I thought I needed more and more things, special things, things that were sentimental.  I realize…sentimental has made me mental. 

Please, come and take away my things!