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The hardest part of decluttering is the 'what if.' There's something stubborn about that old shirt in the closet, whispering, "What if you need me one day?"

We've all been there. Holding onto things that have outlived their purpose but not their promise. The box of cables from phones long gone. The iPhone from 2014—almost vintage, right?

It's not about the item. It's about the promise. Maybe one day we'll start painting, and those dried-up brushes will be useful—or that old coat will be perfect for a spontaneous trip. It’s not about the item; it's about the fantasy of who we might become.

Clutter reflects our potential—or our perception of it. We cling because letting go feels like shutting the door on a future version of ourselves, one that we secretly hope to become. But the weight of holding on keeps us stuck.

There's always that moment—hesitation. Could this be useful someday? 'Someday' is slippery. It's not on the calendar. Meanwhile, the clutter stays, taking up space.

Letting go isn’t about losing the fantasy. It's about trusting that when the time comes, you'll figure it out. Not because of clutter, but in spite of it. The 'what if' is powerful, but so is the lightness that comes when you decide you don’t need a safety net of obsolete tech and outdated dreams.

Maybe it’s time to say goodbye to that old concert t-shirt. You’ll survive without it. And as for those unused running shoes—well, there's always walking without them.

Decluttering is about making room—for who you are now, not who you think you might be later. And that, my friend, is worth it.