Therapy, sort of.

I supposed its for the upcoming 2006,
or maybe its just because my mother has been nagging endlessly, months on end.

I shoved all my CDs, of all sorts, onto my bed.
( They were an unsightly pile anyway, heaping on the desks, and perched pecariously on the shelf, some were even flung carelessly into the niches of my room. )

I was in a foul mood, having an outing cancelled by a close friend, due to family obligations. And the weather was a bitch, the kind that gets on people's nerves. Hot and sticky, heavy and stifling. Accompanied by the recent dread ( or fear, i wasnt so sure ) for the 1st three trial months in IJC that was looming ever so omniously, nearer and nearer, yep, I was slipping into a fuckedup bitch mode, rapidly.

Clatter and crash, the discs were treated with indifference and unintended vengeance.

Sort and slot. Clatter and crash.

As the categorizing proceed, I threw away many unwanted/spoilt/useless discs. My pile of discs eventually grew lighter, and neater.

So did my deposition.

With every disc I tossed in the discard pile, I felt the tight knot in my heart loosening, the clatter and crash gradually got gentler, till it finally settled to a subtle click and clack.

I reckoned I heard a shudder of relief issuing from the pile of discs that had yet to be sorted.


The chore was then done. I stood up and surveyed my work. Discs slotted neatly into their respective compartments, a compact stack was tucked away in a corner. My room became unbelivably neat again.
(However, we all know that it will soon return to resembling something the pigs slept in once the month was over. )



Surprisingly, I was alright too. No, not cheerful, not yet. But I was no longer in an awful mood.

I lugged the big bag of discards into the rubbish chute. Tipping it over and closing the chute, I heard the consecutive clunks, bangs and a final satisfying crash.
My heart felt lighter too.


Afterwhich, with almost frightening timing, the sky opened up and heavy rain pour forth. dispelling the sticky heat.


I smiled.





For those who doubt, try clearing and sorting your impossibly messy paraphernaila on a bad day. Therapy, and its free. (:

Instead of sulking, try sorting. ( Terribly lame, I know. )
But maybe you'll feel better.