There is a last time for all the things…

 

I’ve been really melancholic. Yesterday I packed my first bags. I just realized how much I can’t cope with moving out again. How much stuff I lost along the way, how many of my personal belongings were given, sold, thrown in the garbage. This hit me yesterday, when I was throwing away a little shirt that I’ve had since I was 14. And then I realized how much my clothes were different, how much my apartments were different, how much I’ve changed since then. I didn’t recognize myself.

Life’s really crazy. And I am getting both sad and excited to go.