The collection

Her collection was vast, almost unmanageable, but it brought her the peace of mind she wasn’t able to find otherwise. There was the piece from the night her mom had passed, the pieces she had collected every time her special someone had ignored her feelings, and even one from a wonderful day in the mountains. It seemed silly to think of, at times, but nevertheless the collecting continued.

She would boast at times how long it had been since she acquired the last one, but she knew it was never very long. People close to her worried she had some sort of problem, but never enough to try and talk to her about it. You see, she was clever and had found a way to excuse her collecting. She would say it helped when she was overwhelmed, no over stimulated, by emotions. When talking to people who had no idea what it was like to live in her overactive mind, that excuse always worked. She knew it was just an excuse, but nevertheless the collection continued.

Her most valued piece was never far from her sight. Tucked safely away under her watch band at all times, in case she needed a reminder of what she learned the night she picked this one up. It was tiny, much like the rest, but oh so important to her. Over time she had collected smaller and smaller pieces to try and hide the enormity of the full collection. Who was she hiding from?? Likely herself, but she would never admit that openly. It’s one thing to be called a hoarder, but an entirely different thing to be called crazy, which she likely would be if anyone knew the truth. Nevertheless, she continued.

Always on the lookout for new places to tuck tiny new treasures, while knowing she didn’t need one, the thought was seldom far from her mind. Over time she had tried to add matching pieces to fool people into thinking they had already seen a new piece before whenever they pointed one out. Slowly sinking into her own mind, where this obsession was okay, and everyone else was wrong. The thought of giving up her collection was unspeakable, how could she even consider stopping? She couldn’t, and the collection continued.

Despite a brazenly public she had convinced herself she was hidden. Much like the princess trapped in a tower from the fantasy worlds, she had escaped to, in books and movies. Hidden away from the bullys, abusive partners, and everyday life in general. She had created a world where she could be left alone to cope in the only way she knew how, by growing her collection, piece by piece. Never letting anyone in, she was safe. Then one day he arrived, and for a split second she thought she might be able to stop.

He arrived unexpectedly, in the place she was least likely to look. It wasn’t love or lust that drew her to him, it was a totally different feeling. She had never had this before, he simply accepted and adored her as she was. The first person to call her out for every new piece without making her feel insane. He would hide box cutters and sharp objects, he questioned every new scab no matter the size. He discovered what no one else had......

what she had been collecting all these years, was memories of her pain. In the form of tiny little cuts and small pinholes, she had collected a memory of every painful moment she had lived through. She had over one thousand, but for the first time in her life she actually wanted to stop.

To be continued.....