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26 June 2008 @ 10:34 am
When in doubt, throw it out  
This morning, I found a good sized box and proceeded to rampage the closet, purging away any clothes that don't fit, I have never worn, or that I know I will never wear again.  Innocent plan; I even had charity in mind.  Inevitably this turned into my own little fashion show.  I stripped down and stared down at piles of clothes scattered across the unmade bed.  One by one, I folded delicately the items I knew I did not want to touch my skin and placed them into the box abruptly marked "Goodwill."

One item was a teeny tiny black shirt with a sequined rose on it that could probably fit an 11 year old girl.  I was 25 last summer when I wore that shirt in a recital.  I put that shirt in the box three times, and took it out three times before deciding I wanted to keep it.  Not because I believe I want fit into it again, but because it holds some strange sentimental value.  I remember slipping into that shirt and gliding across stage to my designated seat to perform in a Brahms string quartet.  My sister, glowing in my peripheral vision, did not smile or clap at my presence on stage; I could barely trace a slight head bow and a turn to whisper a sigh into her friend's ear.  I sadly have no recollection of how the concert went, save perhaps from the recording.  The only memory that lingers, is that of my sister drinking in my jutting bones and scrawny arms as I poured the remainder of myself into the music.  

To me, this shirt represents a time when I reached that point of no return, and a huge part of me doesn't want to let that go. 
 
 
 
thin_marionthin_marion on July 8th, 2008 01:52 am (UTC)
I think you might be a poet.