Self worth has been an idea that has been rolling around my brain for the last few weeks. Defining how much I am "worth" seems to be quite challenging for me. Worth is an idea that has been beaten so-far-past being cliche by 'self help specialists' that it continues to lose its value among the pop culture morals it is up against. In my experience, understanding my worth has been a roller coaster ride of self realization and self sabotage. A fast paced ride full of bright flashes of enlightenment followed by lulls of near suicidal downturns. As the train of carts races around the rails I am both the elated wide-eyed kid who takes the down hills with my hands up and the rational motion sick adult who understands every up is followed by a nightmarish downward plunge.
My mania goes professionally undiagnosed, but my search for self worth, self actualization, continues.

Junk – Noun. /jonke/

: Something of little meaning, worth, or significance.  

Some treasures are not bright and shiny. They are not majestic wooden chest full of rare jewels at the bottom of salty seas or over sized black pots of gold located at the end of rainbows.  Some treasures are nothing more than a surprise find at a shitty neighbor's garage sale or at one of those ginormous parking lot sales. A wonderful thing with no price tag lost among a pile of junk. A find you didn't know you needed until you saw it. Until you picked it up and felt it in your hands. 

"So how much for this?" you might ask the junk’s owner.

"What's it worth to you? A couple bucks?" he'd reply back.

"Sure" you would confirm while trying to hide the excitement of knowing you just ripped this dude off. 

You'd walk back to your car and with precision and caution you’d set it in the passenger seat.  Ecstatically you’d drive home. Occasionally gazing over at it feeling satisfied. Then all at once it hits you. How did it end up there among the junk? Who over looked its amazement and allowed it to slip away? 

You'd pull of the road, maybe into an empty store parking lot, and turn the car off. Silence would fill the car. Sadness would overtake your mind. As the tears breach your eye lids it occurs to you that maybe all your new precious has ever known was junk. You'd do the simple math, junk attracts junk. Even non junk that has always been surrounded by junk attracts junk. Your precious thinks it’s junk. Your tears would fall. 

You'd pick it up. "You're not junk. You do know that don't you?" 

Blank stares, it doesn't know.