The other day, I took a deep breath and decided it was time to declutter my soul. I gathered up all the fears and stories that had been weighing me down, the guilt and memories that had been holding me back. I spread them out on the old floor of my house, examining each one before deciding their fate.

I peeled off the layers of hypocrisies and envy, anger, and selfishness, letting them fall away like old paint chipping off a wall. I found the cracks and corners of my rusty heart where they had been hiding, and I released them into the open air.

I polished the masks I had collected over the years, the ones I had worn to hide my true self. I decided they no longer serve me and donated them to the antique shop, where they could be appreciated for their history but no longer needed for their purpose.

I washed my dreams and plans with plenty of soap and water, scrubbing away the doubts and insecurities that had clouded them. I wiped away the memories that made me tired, the ones that trapped me in the painful past, and made space for new, brighter ones to take their place.

I donated the hoodie that had been a security blanket for too long, letting it go to a second-hand thrift store where it could find a new home and purpose. I emptied the basements of my consciousness of junk and trauma, excuses, and tricks, making room for a fresh start.

I changed the old locks of solitude, opening the windows to let in the radiated lightness that had been waiting to enter. And as I did, I changed the sheet of my old year’s calendar, decorating a guest room for Love to rest peacefully.

One day, I cleaned inside, and everything looked more beautiful outside. The weight had been lifted, the clutter cleared, and I was ready to embrace the new with open arms.

© Beatriz Esmer