I told her not to look in the storage room. I wish she’d listened. I really liked this one.
Chelle
the storage door slammed shut behind her. She gasped and jumped at the loud bang. She spun on her heels breaking one, she stumbled against the door. “hello?” she yelled quietly at first then louder and louder. Panic swelled in her like the tide washing a child out to sea. “Help me Please!!” she yelled banging her fist against the storage door, that would open nevermore.
Monica Multer
I don’t know what to say, a box of empty, or a box of full? My mind, full, empty, always changing. Storage for emotions, storage for fear, guilt, love… Hate…
I don’t know where the lid is, or what it’s made out of. Cardboard? Or bone and flesh?
Time’s out to keep writing from my box.
Shelby
Storage. Like baggage? No – storage is more room for baggage. It’s capacity. Incredible capacity to put up with bullshit like baggage. Why carry things when you can STORE them?
a
hope for future adventures.
Anonymous
i like things which organize my belongings, because they are no different from my thoughts.
perception
storage is great for many reasons. Its a place to put your belongings when they are not in use and is useful on many levels. Some people called hoarders have what some call too much storage. This is all subject to cultural relativism if one was so inclined to pursue a philosophical approach to such a task as writing about a word in one minute.
MikeB
Storage reminds me of working in the backroom during my employment at an unspecified retail store chain; long hours of blissful solace away from angry, stupid, bitter consumers.
Scotty
Storage! I have tons of storage on my computer compared to four years ago. 120 gb now compared to 20 gb then. And can you believe it I want more!? Too much media. It sucks my brain away consuming all day long and never creating. I have to act on my ideas and not just consume others.
DJ
the act of putting something away safely.
Anonymous
a bunch of shit that you dont need, extra money that doesn’t need to be spent. shit you bought cuz the credit card companies told you to and then you were like, “why the fuck do i have this?” so you put it in storage…stuff dead people left you but you don’t wana throw it away.
shawna
storage? really? i mean i always see those Westies storage buildings – who makes the mascot of a giant concrete building a small purse dog? that doesn’t really scream “secure” to me…great marketing guys.
Izzy
storage wastes space. you obviously dont need it if you have to store it. give it away or recycle it. no need to hold on to it, most of the time you forget it’s there anyway. its only in existence according to the storage people.
lex
There are so many filing cabinets. So many names. So many places and portraits and things tucked away in big, steel boxes with small manilla labels, written in scrawl hardly readable.
I suppose it’s odd to organize your memories this way, but that’s how I’ve always done it. In catalogues, by time and by significance.
There’s a scale, you know. One to ten. Nothing to infinity–useless to everything.
Kay
The store raged on in a blind panic, wondering if it would ever get out of suburbia. It figured not, since its sense of direction was COMPLETELY backwards. If it aimed for the river, it would end up in the mountains — for the outskirts of town, it would be on the town green. So it lifted its skirts, spun in a circles, and plopped itself back down.
Kaitee
computers, my jumpdrive that had a bunch of things on it that were sort of important that got stolen just because i am an idiot sometimes. storage.. uhm uhm sausages. and squares. hiding things. harnessing.
someone
storage, something I need more of. Cram your life in this tiny room and smash it against six other people’s storage. storage, there is not enough room in my head, barely the size of a basket ball for the storage I need. there is not enough room in my laptop for the storage I need. Never enough storage.
Maura
“Your brain is like an attic, Watson. Like a storage room. You have to be very careful what furniture you place within it, and make sure you dispose of any that serves no purpose.”
I scratched my head. Throw out my thoughts? The things I knew? How could I possibly do that? After an idea had crystallized in my brain, transformed into a fact I believed to be true, how could I destroy it? How could I dissolve the solid fact back into a liquid stream of pure, unencapsulated logic?
vish
i am a keeper. not in THAT sense. i’m talking about my reluctance to get rid of things, to let go of junk, to hold on not to the memories tied to these objects, but just the objects themselves. i refuse to give them up, i refuse to throw these remnants of my life away.
mary ann therese
dying. graves. lonely.
im afraid of ending up alone
in storage. forgotten. dust. vanish. no rememberance.
hayley
Not too long ago, I opened the torn up duffle bag for the first time in ages. I carefully pulled out old tights, ripped and frayed, unwrapped my last pair of point shoes, with a now-brown blood spot permanently stained into the pink satin. I unfolded leotards and leg warmers and sweaters. I leafed through an old book of notes, choreography, dance steps.
It all smelled musty, the years of stagnancy in my parents’ basement emanating from every fiber. It all reeked of stillness, neglect.
I pulled that bag out of storage, not too long ago, and it’s not going back. I might add a few new items to the mix, a few new skills, definitely a slew of new tricks.
I am stretching out stiff muscles. I am getting my blood flowing again, for real, for the first time in a very long time. And even though my body might take a little while to rejuvenate, to become what it was and more, right now, my spirit body is twirling and leaping for joy.
tina
Now I can’t think of things because my friend just did this word but I’ll keep rambling. Storing. Boxes. Imagination. Cardboard. Box in a box in a box in a COW. The fox jumped over the box and went to the moon.
Waffles McGee
place to put things. fears desires. closet out of. locked away. bottled mystery. crevice. vagina.
JJ Preggo
I wish I had an enormous bin to throw all of my feelings into. I’d jumble them up, inside the blue plastic, where it’s airtight and clean. I’d take them out one by one and be able to truly see them as they are. Rubbermaid, Container Store, Tupperware emotions taken out one by one u
reason
In the attic
polaroids, baby cribs
all forgotten in our storage
and then with a bit of unearthing
memories come rushing back
with the scent of
nostalgia
Skye
bin
shel
storage…. for useless things. storage room: in the back of my house. storage: dusty, dirty, dark…
Evey
We walked through the maze like halls of the storage building, trying to find our unit. I can easily imagine someone hiding here ready to jump out at us. The concrete walls are sound proof and the lockers hold so many secrets.
Michelle
A PLACE TO PUT YOU STUFF AND THE THING U DONT NEED BUT WANT TO KEEP. A ROOM OR CUPBOARD TO KEEP THE EXCESSES WE COMPILE AND COLLECT OVER THE YEARS.
GILI BACK
Storage is worthless without necessity. We store things without necessity and the world loses its value.
Josh
when i think of storage i think of the things i’ve hidden deep inside myself. the secrets that i’ve yet to reveal to anyone else. the secrets that build up,ready to burst and explode at any given moment. i sometimes wish i had less storage to hide away these secrets
anonymous
I wasn’t hoping for the word Storage…I was hoping for aggression. That’s what I wanted. But storage will have to do. Storing all the aggression I’m feeling right now…Yes. Store it, then wait for it to explode into a frenzy of anger…Let’s wait.
Anonymous
I have a secret:
I enjoy trips to Ikea the same as I did when I as younger. I like the part in Fight Club where they talk about organizational systems, and all the towels/bookcases etc. that were burned in ed norton’s fire. but anyways, back to the point. I especially like the small things that no one really needs in their lives, like giant clothespins.
yo
Storage space. Space for a lot of baggage. Baggage I store on life.
Anonymous
i didn’t think i had the storage in my mind that day i went to the funeral. i had no idea what was going on around me, all i felt was the coldness of the dirt covering my son’s grave.
cec
you just lost the game!!!
Anonymous
i cannot stand to be near doors that I have never been through, for in the more rational part of my mind I know them to simply be linen closets, or some other droll thing, but my imagination twists them into lockers full of bodies, and the favorite haunts of ghosts
Lulu
I don’t understand where anything get’s stored. Our memories, our lives, our dreams…all of it is temporarily in one place. It seems the world is getting to be too small for all of our things- including life itself.
Citrus
Storage is important to have…and no one has enough. Storage in a small house is tough to manage when there’s limited space and inclination to de-stuff the stuff. Storage would be lovely to have if one could. Could I live in a storage unit?! I’d like to try!
Anit
to keep things locked up and away from other things.
I told her not to look in the storage room. I wish she’d listened. I really liked this one.
the storage door slammed shut behind her. She gasped and jumped at the loud bang. She spun on her heels breaking one, she stumbled against the door. “hello?” she yelled quietly at first then louder and louder. Panic swelled in her like the tide washing a child out to sea. “Help me Please!!” she yelled banging her fist against the storage door, that would open nevermore.
I don’t know what to say, a box of empty, or a box of full? My mind, full, empty, always changing. Storage for emotions, storage for fear, guilt, love… Hate…
I don’t know where the lid is, or what it’s made out of. Cardboard? Or bone and flesh?
Time’s out to keep writing from my box.
Storage. Like baggage? No – storage is more room for baggage. It’s capacity. Incredible capacity to put up with bullshit like baggage. Why carry things when you can STORE them?
hope for future adventures.
i like things which organize my belongings, because they are no different from my thoughts.
storage is great for many reasons. Its a place to put your belongings when they are not in use and is useful on many levels. Some people called hoarders have what some call too much storage. This is all subject to cultural relativism if one was so inclined to pursue a philosophical approach to such a task as writing about a word in one minute.
Storage reminds me of working in the backroom during my employment at an unspecified retail store chain; long hours of blissful solace away from angry, stupid, bitter consumers.
Storage! I have tons of storage on my computer compared to four years ago. 120 gb now compared to 20 gb then. And can you believe it I want more!? Too much media. It sucks my brain away consuming all day long and never creating. I have to act on my ideas and not just consume others.
the act of putting something away safely.
a bunch of shit that you dont need, extra money that doesn’t need to be spent. shit you bought cuz the credit card companies told you to and then you were like, “why the fuck do i have this?” so you put it in storage…stuff dead people left you but you don’t wana throw it away.
storage? really? i mean i always see those Westies storage buildings – who makes the mascot of a giant concrete building a small purse dog? that doesn’t really scream “secure” to me…great marketing guys.
storage wastes space. you obviously dont need it if you have to store it. give it away or recycle it. no need to hold on to it, most of the time you forget it’s there anyway. its only in existence according to the storage people.
There are so many filing cabinets. So many names. So many places and portraits and things tucked away in big, steel boxes with small manilla labels, written in scrawl hardly readable.
I suppose it’s odd to organize your memories this way, but that’s how I’ve always done it. In catalogues, by time and by significance.
There’s a scale, you know. One to ten. Nothing to infinity–useless to everything.
The store raged on in a blind panic, wondering if it would ever get out of suburbia. It figured not, since its sense of direction was COMPLETELY backwards. If it aimed for the river, it would end up in the mountains — for the outskirts of town, it would be on the town green. So it lifted its skirts, spun in a circles, and plopped itself back down.
computers, my jumpdrive that had a bunch of things on it that were sort of important that got stolen just because i am an idiot sometimes. storage.. uhm uhm sausages. and squares. hiding things. harnessing.
storage, something I need more of. Cram your life in this tiny room and smash it against six other people’s storage. storage, there is not enough room in my head, barely the size of a basket ball for the storage I need. there is not enough room in my laptop for the storage I need. Never enough storage.
“Your brain is like an attic, Watson. Like a storage room. You have to be very careful what furniture you place within it, and make sure you dispose of any that serves no purpose.”
I scratched my head. Throw out my thoughts? The things I knew? How could I possibly do that? After an idea had crystallized in my brain, transformed into a fact I believed to be true, how could I destroy it? How could I dissolve the solid fact back into a liquid stream of pure, unencapsulated logic?
i am a keeper. not in THAT sense. i’m talking about my reluctance to get rid of things, to let go of junk, to hold on not to the memories tied to these objects, but just the objects themselves. i refuse to give them up, i refuse to throw these remnants of my life away.
dying. graves. lonely.
im afraid of ending up alone
in storage. forgotten. dust. vanish. no rememberance.
Not too long ago, I opened the torn up duffle bag for the first time in ages. I carefully pulled out old tights, ripped and frayed, unwrapped my last pair of point shoes, with a now-brown blood spot permanently stained into the pink satin. I unfolded leotards and leg warmers and sweaters. I leafed through an old book of notes, choreography, dance steps.
It all smelled musty, the years of stagnancy in my parents’ basement emanating from every fiber. It all reeked of stillness, neglect.
I pulled that bag out of storage, not too long ago, and it’s not going back. I might add a few new items to the mix, a few new skills, definitely a slew of new tricks.
I am stretching out stiff muscles. I am getting my blood flowing again, for real, for the first time in a very long time. And even though my body might take a little while to rejuvenate, to become what it was and more, right now, my spirit body is twirling and leaping for joy.
Now I can’t think of things because my friend just did this word but I’ll keep rambling. Storing. Boxes. Imagination. Cardboard. Box in a box in a box in a COW. The fox jumped over the box and went to the moon.
place to put things. fears desires. closet out of. locked away. bottled mystery. crevice. vagina.
I wish I had an enormous bin to throw all of my feelings into. I’d jumble them up, inside the blue plastic, where it’s airtight and clean. I’d take them out one by one and be able to truly see them as they are. Rubbermaid, Container Store, Tupperware emotions taken out one by one u
In the attic
polaroids, baby cribs
all forgotten in our storage
and then with a bit of unearthing
memories come rushing back
with the scent of
nostalgia
bin
storage…. for useless things. storage room: in the back of my house. storage: dusty, dirty, dark…
We walked through the maze like halls of the storage building, trying to find our unit. I can easily imagine someone hiding here ready to jump out at us. The concrete walls are sound proof and the lockers hold so many secrets.
A PLACE TO PUT YOU STUFF AND THE THING U DONT NEED BUT WANT TO KEEP. A ROOM OR CUPBOARD TO KEEP THE EXCESSES WE COMPILE AND COLLECT OVER THE YEARS.
Storage is worthless without necessity. We store things without necessity and the world loses its value.
when i think of storage i think of the things i’ve hidden deep inside myself. the secrets that i’ve yet to reveal to anyone else. the secrets that build up,ready to burst and explode at any given moment. i sometimes wish i had less storage to hide away these secrets
I wasn’t hoping for the word Storage…I was hoping for aggression. That’s what I wanted. But storage will have to do. Storing all the aggression I’m feeling right now…Yes. Store it, then wait for it to explode into a frenzy of anger…Let’s wait.
I have a secret:
I enjoy trips to Ikea the same as I did when I as younger. I like the part in Fight Club where they talk about organizational systems, and all the towels/bookcases etc. that were burned in ed norton’s fire. but anyways, back to the point. I especially like the small things that no one really needs in their lives, like giant clothespins.
Storage space. Space for a lot of baggage. Baggage I store on life.
i didn’t think i had the storage in my mind that day i went to the funeral. i had no idea what was going on around me, all i felt was the coldness of the dirt covering my son’s grave.
you just lost the game!!!
i cannot stand to be near doors that I have never been through, for in the more rational part of my mind I know them to simply be linen closets, or some other droll thing, but my imagination twists them into lockers full of bodies, and the favorite haunts of ghosts
I don’t understand where anything get’s stored. Our memories, our lives, our dreams…all of it is temporarily in one place. It seems the world is getting to be too small for all of our things- including life itself.
Storage is important to have…and no one has enough. Storage in a small house is tough to manage when there’s limited space and inclination to de-stuff the stuff. Storage would be lovely to have if one could. Could I live in a storage unit?! I’d like to try!
to keep things locked up and away from other things.