1. The Not-Quite-a-Shelf That Started It All
I don’t know when it started, but there’s this shelf by my door that turned into a weird kind of launch pad. It’s not organized. It’s not curated. It’s not even really a shelf—it’s the top of an old cabinet that wobbles if you close the door too hard.
Anyway, that’s where all the things end up that I grab before leaving the house. Not the obvious stuff like my phone or keys or whatever, but like… extras. Little “just in case” things. Sunglasses, gum, tiny notebooks that I write maybe two lines in and then forget. One glove I swear I’m gonna find the match for eventually.
Sometimes there’s snacks. Sometimes I throw my earbuds up there and forget. Once I left a half-eaten protein bar and didn’t find it until I was looking for my bus pass a week later. The packaging had this weird motivational quote on it too, something like “You are strong and wild” which felt kind of insulting at that point. But I kept the wrapper because it made me laugh. Still up there, actually.
2. The Everyday Things That Somehow Stayed
There’s a lot of trial-and-error stuff on that shelf. Things I thought would be useful or cute or functional but ended up being annoying or sticky or broke after one use. But a few things? A few actually stuck.
Like this body lotion bar I got at a pop-up market where I also bought overpriced popcorn and a ceramic mug shaped like a fox. I thought it was gonna be one of those things that smells nice but doesn’t do anything, but it surprised me. Rubs in quick, not greasy, doesn’t smell like fake fruit. My hands get weirdly dry when I’m stressed (and I’m usually stressed), so I end up using it a lot. It lives on the shelf now. Even if it melts one day, I think I’d still keep it for the smell alone.
There’s also a pen. Not an expensive one, not even one I picked out. I think it’s from a bank or something? But it writes smooth and doesn’t leak in my pocket, which honestly makes it better than most fancy ones I’ve tried. I guard it like a treasure now. I’ve started noticing how many pens betray you. This one hasn’t yet.
One day I added this aluminum and baking soda free deodorant stick. It was kind of an experiment, mostly because I forgot my regular one on a trip and grabbed this from a local shop. I didn’t expect much. But weirdly, it works? Like, actually works. No weird chemical smell, no itchy feeling. Doesn’t leave me worried about hugging someone on a hot day. It’s been up on the shelf ever since. I only use it on certain days, but I always want it there. Comfort thing maybe.
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3. The Small Altars We Build Without Realizing
Other shelf residents: a mini flashlight (why? who knows), a rock I picked up at the lake that looks like a heart, a tiny box of matches from a ramen bar, and a friendship bracelet someone made me at a party once. It fell apart but I kept the string. Couldn’t bring myself to toss it.
It’s funny the stuff we hold onto. Not just physically, but like, mentally too. I think we’re all just kind of building little altars to the moments we didn’t know mattered until later. A sticker on a water bottle. A folded-up note you never threw away. A lucky coin that doesn’t actually work but makes you feel slightly invincible.
I started taking pics of the shelf sometimes. Not for Instagram or anything. Just to look back and see what changes. What stays. What rotates out. It’s like this quiet little journal that doesn’t use words.
4. The Comfort of Things That Don’t Make Sense
I once had a friend who swore by keeping her “everyday things” in her coat pockets. Like all of them. Chapstick, lighter, tarot card, hair tie, little tiny vial of glitter (again, don’t ask). She said it made her feel like a witch with a utility belt. I kind of get it now. It’s like armor. Small pieces of comfort, surprise, utility.
Not everything has a story. Some stuff is just… there. But the ones that do, they make the clutter worth it.
One time I added a postcard someone never sent me. I found it in a thrifted book. It just said “I miss you but I’m not gonna say it again” and it hit me in the chest. No name. No address. Just vibes. I kept it.
Also have a key to a place I don’t go to anymore. Still can’t get rid of it. Might need it someday? Maybe it just reminds me of something. Or someone. Maybe it’s just heavy in a way that feels good.
5. The Mess That Remembers You
It’s weird, isn’t it? The most functional parts of your life are usually the least emotional. Like socks. Chargers. Grocery lists. But then something like a coin or a stick of deodorant ends up feeling sacred, somehow.
Not in the “I’m a minimalist monk” kind of way. More in the “I have no idea why this matters but it does” way.
If I ever lose the shelf, I think I’d try to recreate it. Not perfectly. That’d ruin it. But maybe I’d build a new version somewhere else. New rocks. New wrappers. Different mistakes.
Stuff you touch once and never again. Stuff you forget until it’s right there when you need it. Stuff that doesn’t do much but makes you feel like yourself.
That’s what this shelf is. A mess that makes sense. A mess that remembers you.
And if it smells like oranges and wood and some half-faded ramen memories? Even better.
