We are nothing but our possessions

Today marked the first day of our house getting renovated. The first victim- my room. Yesterday, I had to pack all my belongings and shove them in several boxes and bags. This would have been easy for most people my age. However, I who haven't come from out of town for studies or work, found it extremely difficult. I have been living in the same house since I was born and the most uprooting I've ever done is going to a relative's house to stay for a couple of days. Seeing all my belongings made me think of two things:

1 I have too much stuff

and

2 Is my entire life amounting to a couple of bags and boxes

What I didn't realise was that when I go into the empty room later on, I would be in for a huge surprise. My emotions; of course. I was stuck with scrapped ceilings, hammered walls and an existential crisis. The ceiling which once housed a glow-in-the-dark vast milky way galaxy, I used to stare up at night whenever I was lonely; the paint-chipped walls where I once hung my posters; the life I lived. I am not moving out anytime soon, but it sure felt like it.

It got me thinking as to, life is so temporary. Our moments come and go like the wind on a stormy night; strong and leave us helpless. Everybody and everything eventually become redundant. People work for a career their entire lives, only to live it for a small time, people run and about enjoying life only to wind up dead. Why do anything at all? No matter what we do, everyone doesn't wind up with a legacy. Some people end up as just a pot of ashes or a piece of stone. Everything eventually becomes obsolete. So why are we trying so hard? Why are we living so much when in the end we amount to nothing but our material scraps?

Plus, with the advent of hippie minimalism, having less is cool. Lesser belongings, lesser, baggage and lesser burnt bridges. I understand the aesthetics, but not the purpose. How can you voluntarily remove 90% of your belongings and live on 3 pairs of pants? That's like shedding your life and memories. We're not reptiles.

I remember once when I was cleaning out my closet I found my old school and college t-shirts and shirts which we had signed on the last days. There was some really weird stuff written there, but they were all symbolic of memories and the lives of people. I remember thinking, it's a waste of space I should just throw it and I did. But what if I hadn't?

What if I kept them, and remember people who made most of my childhood? Who made my life happy, and fulfilling and gave me memories of a lifetime. I haven't forgotten any, maybe I have, but I don't want to. I want to remember anyone and everyone and want everything I do to matter. I don't want to be forgotten like an old t-shirt in a closet. I want my life to impact someone; or a lot of people, to make my life worth living, Worth mentioning. Worth being important. I want to matter. Forever.