for me.

lip balm.

why would anyone want to collect that?

i remember i must have got to about 14 of them or something. in a little basket. and then i just remember getting fed up. and i threw them away.

i had candy-floss. strawberry. orange. toffee apple. several strawberries.

i dont know why. i used to like sitting and going through them. opening them a little and smelling them. i bragged to school friends about the candy-floss one. that was special. i even remember ordering them in preference. the tiny black plain strawberry pot always won. it was the most carryable. and the most pungent. and the softest.

and then i dont remember why i got fed up of them. i just did. i got annoyed at having them around. annoyed that i couldnt use them. annoyed that they didnt benefit me in any way. and i just lost them.

there was something irritating about having them. little pots of smelly joy. they cluttered my room. and they were proper glass pots. and i remember wishing i had dry lips just so i could use them without feeling like i was suffocated by vaseline based smells.

they never tasted how they smelt.

maybe theres something psychological deep set in that. but i cant be bothered to go into it.

i have collected some now. maybe its one of those things i will always do. maybe i just like the idea of capturing these sweet smelling tasty things without ever having to actually eat it. like keeping a pineapple with you at all times and tasting it all the time without feeling sick of it or it going bad or anything. just always there to enjoy. maybe thats what it was? being able to experience what i was smelling without mouldy consequence.

but i have some. and i never know where to put them or how to deal with them or what do to with them. and maybe eventually i’ll get sick of them again. and maybe i’ll throw them away again. i wish i hadnt thrown the others away. id have quite a collection by now.

there was also always something so satisfying about opening a new lip balm. brand new and un-finger-printed. smooth and balmy and smelling sweet. unbelievably smooth. almost like if you dipped your finger in, your whole body would be engulfed and you would end up on a smooth slippery buttery slope of comfort. but of course once you put a finger on it, you marked it. bruised it. it was ruined forever.

 

im trying to think of other things i ever collected. and i cant. i wish i could go back to that house to before we left it. to before i emptied my room and i wish i could go through all the things i put in it. i wish i could visit it and remember why i am the way i am. i wish i could visit my memories.

like when i first came downstairs in my new school uniform. and i remember feeling so special. so grown up. so positive. and i remember my sister just laughing at me. and i knew i looked stupid. and i wished i wasnt. and i remember my parents telling me to ignore her. but i remember crying. i remember wondering why i was so useless.

i just want to go there and look at all the things i kept on my shelf. just to remember why i ordered them and arranged them the way i did. just to know.

the door that used to stick because the varnish was too thick on the top edge. so i could never slam my door. and when i didnt want anyone to come in i would hammer the corner in tight. and sit in front of the door. and i would cry and cry and wish they would just leave me alone. or the times we would collect hailstones from my window in a little bowl. cos it was the closest thing to snow. and the stuff i would hang from cupboard door handles. the stuff i put under my bed. the corner i used to play polly pocket in. where i kept those coloured bottles on magic potions in tictac pots and where a little basket of lip balms sat.

 

i just sometimes wish i could go and visit it. just to feel safe. and comforted.

the radiator i turned off. the bookshelf i would stare at. the chair i sat on. i miss that chair. that chair was my chair. i wonder where it went. the radio that sat in that corner and i would record music on to cassette tapes from the uk top 40 on sunday nights.

 

ignite the light.and let it shine.just own the night.like the 4th of july.