i collect so i dont forget. i pick up receipts and lists and scribbles on floorboards. i collect old things left behind and new things forgotten, hoarding them all inside a secret compartment besides my bookshelf. i collect lives of strangers that i have never met because there is something so prepossessing about lives i have never known; something that intrigues me so thoroughly. i will pick up empty metro cards and write down destinations on the back, because someone out there was going elsewhere, because they needed to get away, because they needed to go back. i collect books because there are stories that i want to read, people i want to meet, lives that i want to live. i collect books because there are millions of people holding their breaths between the bindings, waiting to blink against the light of new minds. i collect words because i love them, because i cusp them between my palms and drink them in, let them coat my throat, seep into my lungs, travel through my veins. i collect so i can become; so that i can be pieces of people that i believe in so fervently.
...today, i am me. but a different me, i believe. i believe i change. i change every single day.
do you? do you want to?
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