The Inner Hoarder

I share my bedroom at home with my younger brother and although it's fairly competent in size I have found lately that our confines are inhumanly downsizing in space. A further investigation dismissed the suggestion that this recent stint of ice-cream season had caused us to inflate dramatically, meaning we for once weren't the problem. The conclusion of our little crisis was a strange one. I pride myself on being a clean, orderly person but in some regards I am significantly cluttered. I accumulate a lot of junk, with an excessive collection of random components dispensed throughout my bedroom. I have an inability to discard with particular items, thus denoting I am a hoarder. Take pleasure in reviewing my scrap that went a little too far.

1. Clothes: My entire wardrobe is one cramped wreckage fixed in the uninhabitable corner of my quarter. The population of Narnia would have entirely suffocated at this stage from the amount of rags jammed in the closet, out of my way. From my old childish 'Cúl Camp' jerseys to my once mortal denim jacket everything is by some means valuable to be. It's getting worse in the last few years, if I bought an item of clothing I will not be physically able to chuck it. Hand-me-downs for the brother are the way forward.

2. Holiday Rummage: Every vacation I've ever trekked on has left some form of madness in my bedroom. Foreign bus tickets, plane boarding passes, theme-park flyers and tokens all provide me with treasured insights down emotional memory lane (both good and bad) which I'll continue to hoard, I mean cherish.

3. Birthday Cards: If you scrawled me a greeting card in the last six years then congratulations you have a place reserved in the second drawer of my side-locker. I probably should have thrown out these bad boys but the thought of the local bin-men reading through Aunty Maggie's old testimonials sends one too many shivers down my spine.

4. School Supplies: The majority of people barely have their pen left down after their final leaving cert exam and they have the school uniform burnt, their school books scrapped and anything half-associated with the public building deporting on the first boat to Albania. However this perky turkey cannot dump those ancient school tests, journals, yearbooks and more that each provide me with hours of entertainment and nostalgia as Ireland's spottiest teenager.

5. Seasoned Toenails: Considering I only carve my toenails once a year the collection isn't that substantial. I preserve them in an old jam jar, commonly using them as toothpicks (joking, a fifth point proved difficult).