Came across this on one of the blogs i follow, luluandyourmom. I've probably followed her for over a few years now. I came across her blog on a forum once, intrigued by her fashion and become more intrigued by the little bits of her life she did share and her thoughts. Thought this was something special, and it's inspiring me to write more and maybe post a little of old bits i've written before that definitely are not nearly as well written.
the collector
His place was like a museum. There was so much art everywhere. I went upstairs to use the bathroom. More art wrapped up in paper. "Careful not to touch anything," I told myself. Then I tripped on a vacuum cleaner... damn.
I was his object.
In the morning, I woke up next to him; it felt nice to be close. I noticed he put up a new painting. Pretty. I watched him get ready to take a shower; a cue for me to get dressed.
On my way out, he asked me, "How's your life?" to which I responded by looking away. He asked me again, "How's your life?"
"It's fine," I said.
Except it wasn't fine.
"I read your Facebook. The one about the girl in the New York Times. It was funny."
I couldn't remember what he was talking about. He was reading up on me. But I was right here.
"Are those shoes new?"
I wore them on our first date.
"Did you cut your hair?"
Like a month ago.
Collectors are like that. They don't have to interact with their beloved objects all the time. It's just... there. And every now and then they take an interest, but otherwise, there's no upkeep. His life was like a museum. Well curated. But poorly kept.
I was his object.
In the morning, I woke up next to him; it felt nice to be close. I noticed he put up a new painting. Pretty. I watched him get ready to take a shower; a cue for me to get dressed.
On my way out, he asked me, "How's your life?" to which I responded by looking away. He asked me again, "How's your life?"
"It's fine," I said.
Except it wasn't fine.
"I read your Facebook. The one about the girl in the New York Times. It was funny."
I couldn't remember what he was talking about. He was reading up on me. But I was right here.
"Are those shoes new?"
I wore them on our first date.
"Did you cut your hair?"
Like a month ago.
Collectors are like that. They don't have to interact with their beloved objects all the time. It's just... there. And every now and then they take an interest, but otherwise, there's no upkeep. His life was like a museum. Well curated. But poorly kept.
