Things I feel the consistent and inexplicable urge to collect on walks.
Bottle caps. I have a jar in my room (which I’ve had for a while and took with me when I moved) full of bottle caps. I thought I would have filled it by now but a surprising number can fit in only half the space in that jar. I’m walking, I see a metal bottle cap on the street, I pick it up and pocket it. It goes in the jar. Why? You tell me, I’ve got no clue.
Good looking sticks. Not to use for any particular purpose, but I’ve got a pile of sticks on my desk from yesterday alone where I spontaneously spent an hour walking through a park picking up Good Sticks.
Feathers. I grew up being told not to touch random feathers (likely fear of Vague Wild Animal Disease), so I know this isn’t a learned habit from childhood. But lately I’ve felt urged to pick up good looking feathers. They’re on my altar. They’re on my wall. Most of them are in a bag, on my desk, with the sticks. I did not want them for a purpose, only for a strange New whim.
Writing materials/stationary. Especially on campus, I see a broken pencil on the ground? Take that shit home with me. A pen left on a desk for an hour? Mine now.
Can i stress again feathers. Every feather I see is in my pocket instantly. Despite how much I don’t like the idea of feathers in my pockets (what if they get damaged??) something in my heart that I cannot understand wants nothing more than for me to take home every fucking feather I see while walking around.
Cool looking rocks, especially near water where they’ve gone all smooth? I take those things and by the time I’m done I’ve got a damn pile of em. Doesn’t happen often because I’m not usually wandering lakeside but when I am, I return with pockets heavy with smooth stones and will become another small mountain on my desk.
KEYCHAINS KEYCHAINS KEYCHAINS KEYCH-
This isn’t really a “see on the ground while walking” thing but it’s in the same vein- envelopes. I’ve got a freezer bag in my desk drawer of envelopes (all of them used, opened, and cardless, mind you.) it’s just something about an envelope with an address on it, torn open (usually by me.) why do I keep these? I couldn’t tell you.
Also I feel the urge to take people’s mail (i live in a space where packages are left in a hallway for people to pick up and every time I walk through there i at least want to look at em all. Rest assured i haven’t actually STOLEN anyone else’s mail and I don’t intend to, although it’s tempting.
The corvid urge to take little souvenirs as I make my morning commute is insane, theres an unnamed magpie in my brain and I’m not impulse shaming it, I’m just impulse… inquiring why.
