Once upon a time I used to collect absolutely everything, and I mean everything. Everyday I'd find different things on the street, hub caps, stand alone frying pans, small pornographic photos and fill my pockets with the left over starburst wrappers that came in so many pretty colors. Which meant my room was this claustraphobic shrine. The objects took over and often I'd find myself sleeping between piles of things, unwilling to move them because they were asthetically pleasing. Like there was a big god like camera watching from the outside. Was very much the same with my wardrobe. I'd sometimes buy things just because I liked the fabric and hang them up, never really bothering to wear them.
This isn't so much the case anymore, because eventually I couldn't stand it anymore, and the great purge commenced. To most this wouldn't seem as such a huge life event, but it was definitely a turning point.