Let's get Ready to Raaammmble!

I was much too amused at such a simple pun.

The idea of things missing upsets me a lot for some reason. Just not having something, missing or losing something really strikes at me, and I don't know why.

Like space missions. The astronauts piss into the shuttle for a while, and eventually eject it all into space. That's not a lot, maybe a few litres of urine? That means some water, ammonia, carbon and trace minerals.

But it's gone.

We'll never have it back.

The Earth has lessened.

It's just things like that. Another example. When I was younger, I was given a load of 1/2 pennies. maybe 50 or so. That amount has whittled down to 10 that I know of over the past few years, and that makes me sad. These were the objects of childhood games and dreams, and they're gone, some where, anywhere. I'd even get upset if a shirt was missing a button, or something was missing a label.

I can remember crying whenever I had to replace furniture or clothes that i ahd had for so long.

I can't bring myself to lose things. I always seem to think I might need them someday. Various codes, documents, things of distant aspirations. And like hell I'm gonna get rid of it.

The same goes for a lot of things I have.

My school bag: Contains documents and missed homeworks from 2 years ago.
Might be useful though.

My MSN: Has contacts that I have never spoken to in my life.
But maybe I'll need to talk to them someday.

Except it's all useless.

Even RPGs. Despite having the best weapons in the game, beyond comparison, I'll still carry a load of elemental crap, or special armor. In case I need it. But I know I've seen everything the game has to offer, but that doesn't stop me carting 4 types of ice armor and 99 of every battle item.

As a child, I was a huge Magpie. I used to have this beanbag chair, that I would fill with things. Shiney things, plastic things, crystalline things. I had a huge obsession over "Crystals". It'd mainly be plasticy cheap stuff I stole from my sister, or some sort of lego thing or something.The most precious thing would probably be a rock with some minerals on it, that I was convinced was some sort of crystal or diamond. One thing I've always been ashamed of, was one time I visited a graveyard, and there was this grave, covered with these fake emeralds. it was beautiful. And I ahd to have one. So I took one.
I threw up for three nights, but I still didn't give it back. It was precious.

The beanbag is still perched atop my wardrobe, sinking with weight and jingling with marbles.

What worries me a lot as well, is what this says about me. Does this make me materialistic? Perhaps I value matter over the things that are supposed to matter.