At the bottom of my drawers, there is an old hoodie that sits, folded and clean. Every morning my hand passes over it as I choose something else. A part of my brain considers it waste, it seems wrong, it seems out of place. It’s a perfectly fine hoodie, comfortable with no damage, but my mind itself has created this barrier to consider it as waste, my brain calls it a “matter out of place,” but I can’t bring myself to throw it away or even donate it. I think my brain likes having this waste in my room, and if I throw it out, I’ll just create another mental barrier for another piece of clothing, and that will become waste.