Cleaning My Room

I worked on cleaning my room this weekend; however, the rather futile point of this entire exercise is that this is an endeavour that has been going on now for nearly two months. I'm still not through. I can't believe how much of a pack rat I've become. Then it hit me, my room has become an outer representation of my inner self. I noticed when I seemed to make no dent in the clutter at all, that the entire task seemed daunting. I didn't know where to turn. I'm just going around in circles. Suddenly the same sense of failure and dread consumned me, like it usually does when I look at my life. The realization hit me that I hold on to too much in my life, emotional baggage I should have let go of long ago still sits there on my closet shelf gathering dust. I hold onto failed experiments in life. I hold onto grudges. I hold onto failed relationships (or rather relationships that never had a chance to get off the ground). I hold onto hurt. I hold onto lose. In turn I hold onto all the objects associated with these, and it becomes clutter in my life. Now having come to this realization, I have to reflect on my life and figure out why I decided to hold onto these things and why I can't seem to let them go. It's a slow process, but I do know that I have two garbage bags ready to head to the curb.