#hell room

I went to my small office, the other room just off the Hallway Room, and like a disease that has spread from one part of the body to every other, it too was now a giant ridiculous mess. I couldn't get to the Hell Room, couldn't face the Hallway Room, couldn't lift those heavy boxes into the attic, but I could at least make headway here, right? Here, like everywhere else in my house at this moment, it seemed, I found myself surrounded by a maelstrom of papers and unsettlingly random objects. I began throwing things into the trash and the recycling with an energy that bordered on manic.

"But those papers are the trigger," he explained. "If I don't have those papers, I'll probably never think of those memories again." I wasn't about to admit it, but he was playing my song. But, looking around I could also see the consequences loud and clear: when you try to keep everything, control everything, you end up losing it all, controlling nothing. All the three-ring binders in the world can't stop the advances of nature, the ravages of time.