It’s one in the morning, and I’m worn the fuck out. My hips hurt, my legs hurt, my back hurts, my head hurts. Everything is throbbing. That being said, I have a distinct feeling of satisfaction, as I’ve spent the entire day organizing, decorating, and cleaning my room.

(I’m a neat freak.)

As I’ve mentioned dozens of times before, over a year and a half ago I had an estate sale and sold most of my possessions. I kept a few things, of course, mostly books, a handful of pictures, knick knacks, and can’t-live-withouts. As my original plan was to move to Austin (I’ve recently run into several people in Fort Smith who think I’m “back home,” but–joke’s on them–I never left), I’ve essentially been living out of a suitcase since moving in with my parents last February-ish. Granted, I hung my clothes in my sister’s old closet, put my underwear in a spare chest of drawers, even set up a small bookshelf. But–until today–I haven’t hung anything on the walls.

I guess I didn’t want to get too comfortable.

Sometime last year I went from sleeping in my sister’s old room to sleeping in my old room because I hoped a different bed would help my sore back. I don’t think it did, but I’ve stayed here anyway–in my old room–where I am now. Consequently, for over six months I’ve been living in two places, some of my stuff in my old room, some of my stuff in my sister’s. However, because I’m anal retentive and love order, this situation has been wearing me the fuck out. Every day I walk into this room and notice all the chachkies that aren’t mine and I don’t like looking at, all the shit hung on the wall in the wrong place “because there was a nail there,” all the family junk that’s stored in the closet.

Until today, that is. For whatever reason, this morning I had enough. I thought, Marcus, you’ve been here for over a year. You might as settle in. So that’s what I did. For over twelve hours starting this afternoon, I moved (almost) everything that wasn’t mine to another room, gathered all my worldly possessions into this one, and went to work sorting, grouping, and arranging.

My first major task was decorating the built-in bookshelves that frame my window. This was a major frustration point, since I kept looking for little collectables to decorate with but couldn’t find any BECAUSE I FUCKING SOLD EVERYTHING I USED TO COLLECT! (Whoops.) Still, I managed, and after the bookshelf project, I cleaned out a box of old birthday cards and letters I found in the closet (where I used to be). (That was a gay joke, Mom.) This was really strange, looking at twenty-five-year-old birthday cards from friends and relatives, some of whom are no longer alive. Having just been reminded that I don’t own much anymore, I wanted to hang on to every slip of paper, every fond thought and signature. But I didn’t. I kept a few things to take pictures of tomorrow, but that’s it. The rest went in the trash.

The past is over.

Of all the framed pictures and artwork I used to have, I only kept nine (my favorite number) when I had the sale. Y’all, it took me at least two hours to figure out how to hang them on the wall, but I finally did. And here’s what’s great about having these nine pictures on the wall–I love, absolutely adore–every one of them. Each one has a story, each one “made the cut” for a different reason. Even now as I type, they are hanging around me, bringing a smile to my face, helping me feel at home here.

I suppose this is something I haven’t wanted to admit–that I’m home again, that I’m here now. But I am here now, so I might as well act like it. That’s what today was about for me–acceptance, admitting that even though I’m not where I thought I would be at this point in my life, I can still enjoy where I am. I spend so much time in this room, so much time staring at these walls–why shouldn’t I like what I’m looking at? Currently I’m propped up in bed, and across the room is my Zac Efron wall calendar, my collection of magnets, the typewriter and cup of coffee drawing I blogged about yesterday, my vision board, and an antique swag lamp I’ve had for two years but haven’t used until tonight. All these things neatly arranged truly inspire me. Why didn’t I do this sooner? (It doesn’t mean I’ll be here forever.) Already I feel more creative, more relaxed.