Priceless

Today I woke with a belly of mixed emotion. I’ve been treading through this day smiling, excited, constantly on the verge of tears and confused.

I was asked to place a price on all my worldly possessions – my almost new leather couch, my table, chairs, cutlery – everything even the toaster. Furniture that has had less than 6 months use and more than a year pilled to the ceiling in my Mum’s spare room. Furniture, that although beautiful and almost brand new, sends a shiver up my spine every time I walk past the room. To me it is a room jam packed with memories not wood or leather or cloth, just memories of a time I have to forget.

It is hard to place a price on something that is so valuable yet so worthless to me.

I’ve spend the day moving these things out of the room, out of the house, out of my life. I’m hoping the memories attached to them like ghosts pass with them.

Am I a fool for attaching memories to mere objects? Am I a fool for not being about to sleep in the sheets I woke up in a year ago when I was too sick to even want to wake up? Am I a fool to practically give away a leather couch that I sat on when I was someone I’m trying to forget? Am I a fool for wanting to never see the table again that I ate at when I had no appetite what so ever for life? Will a different house without these objects help me to forget the time I lived in a place when I was barely living?

It is hard to place a price on something that is so valuable yet so worthless to me.

Today I woke with a belly of mixed emotion as today may just be the end of a life I’ve been trying to leave behind. The price? $1000 – that’s all it takes to take it all away, everything I own, every bad memory I have.

Maybe you can put a price on happiness.