Hoarding

I plan to write an article about one characteristic of a fictional person every week till I start to get boring. Here's the post for week 1. It is about hoarding.

Mat kept a diary. He wrote in it religiously every night whilst playing melancholic music on his computer. He was a hoarder. He had trouble throwing things away. He didn’t mind the smell and the clutter. He compulsively HAD to keep everything he had ever used. Surprisingly, he was incredibly organized in his own way. He had a system that only he could work out. He knew where everything was and he got extremely upset when it wasn’t there.

He had a job in the supermarket as a cashier. He loved his job and was good at it. He was also allowed to play whatever music he wanted to be played and the customers often used to tell him that the music was always amazing and he always tried to smile and say thank you. He just couldn’t. He always had trouble with.

Here is his journal entry from the day he was arrested. He knew what the consequences of his actions would be, but did it anyway. This says everything you need to know about him. He truly was abnormal.

Diary Entry: 1/1/2012

7:00 AM

Today is the first day of the New Year. The old diary is obviously over. So, I must introduce myself again.

I am a collector. A things enthusiast. I will take anything that I think is interesting or that I have used and will never throw it away. Why would I throw away something that’s mine? I have everything I need in my room. Clothes, perfume, liquor, a computer, a tooth brush, dead lizards, you name it, I have it.

8:30 PM

A neighbor came to my house at about 6.30 PM to wish me a happy new year. She seemed really friendly to me, but I just did not know what to say or do. She took the laughing Buddha that I had got as a gift from my brother on the 17^th of august the previous year. I didn’t like what was happening, but would saying so make me a bad person? I thought it would, so I tried not to say anything and let it slip. This proved to be a mistake.

She then walked over to my liquor cabinet and saw the wide array of drinks and said, “Want to open one?”

I was trying to stay calm and was failing badly. She was touching my things. MY things. Nobody but me can touch or use anything that I have collected. She seemed intent on ruining my day. She then opened the Remy martin cognac that was on the same spot for nearly five years and poured it on to two glasses. This was the last straw. I could not take it anymore. I took the baseball bat and hit her on the head. She immediately fell to the floor. I took her to her house and placed her on her sofa and covered her with a blanket from the room. She will be fine, but will obviously call the cops on me.

I came back home and saw that the hairclip she was wearing had fallen to the ground. I held it and finally got my fix. I had added to my collection. The Remy Martin was open already, so I drank what she had poured for herself as I waited for the cops to take me to jail.