Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in a junk drawer. You know, that place in your kitchen that you kind of just throw random things in? Some scissors you don’t feel like bringing back upstairs. A few pencils or paper clips that are used only once in a while, collecting dust in that dark space. That one report card from middle school that your parents for some reason never threw away. Or like, a photograph of your fifth grade softball card that you hide in there, hating the way your tucked uniform accentuated that little soft spot on your stomach. Okay, that might be a little specific…but you get the idea. The infamous “junk drawer” that almost every household has somewhere—easy access to those random items but far enough to be able to forget about them.
There are days where I feel like I’m a part of that medley of items. I am those pairs of scissors, not where I am supposed to be. Like I’m waiting for the moment where I feel at home. Or those paper clips–taken advantage of by that certain boy who has so much power over me. Taking me out and using me whenever it’s convenient for him, only to be thrown back into the junk drawer when it’s not. Relatable right? Gosh, men can really suck.
But there’s also a another side to being in a junk drawer. You’re counted on. You’re relied on by others. My mom doesn’t go all the way upstairs when she needs a pen because she knows there's one in the junk drawer. It’s so unbelievably weird to feel simultaneously counted on yet taken for granted. Even the name “Junk Drawer” is contradictory. It implies all the items in the drawer are useless, yet each and every thing has a purpose.
Perhaps that’s the tragedy of the junk drawer: people assume the things in it are junk. But in reality, being tucked away doesn’t make something “junk”, it just means people forget how much they need it until it’s gone.
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