white paint, a wall and the residual marks of scotch tape and tacs.

i have always hated empty walls. even when i was little my walls have always been covered with pictures and posters and any random two-dimensional thing that could be taped up to cover a piece of paint. blanks walls have always depressed me. even when i have long since stopped talking to people i leave their pictures up, i'd rather have old friends around than a blank square where they used to be. something will always be better than nothing.

i need a certain degree of clutter in my life, i need things a little messy. i need things to look at because i need the distraction sometimes, i need the cards from friends that fit me perfectly, the yellowing political cartoons that drew my thoughts better than i could ever argue them, the pictures of all the smiling faces some of which are starting to look younger than they did before. I need the fliers and the knick knacks that have accumulated from the combined force of nostalgia and an uncanny ability to preserve worthless things for inordinate periods of time; i need the reminder that all of these things happened.

the thing i hate the most about moving isn't packing my life into boxes or even cleaning all those spots we've been missing for the two years we've been living here, it's the empty walls. because they're what mean i'm actually leaving this place for good.

but the pictures, the posters, the meaningless odds and ends are going to be hung back up with fresh tape on clean white walls as yet unmarred by my destructive love of tacs. to remind me and distract me and cover up just a little bit more paint.

and because i could never live in a place with empty walls.