I've realized why packing is so hard. It's because the way I live is designed for permanency. The knick-knacks, the shoeboxes of letters and birthday cards, the drawers of half-finished stories, the way I stack and stash things; it's not meant to be moved. And it's not meant to be in a temporary place. And it's even harder because I don't know how temporary my new place will be. Will I stay there all 5 years? Will I move into a different place with more roommates once Emily moves out? I can't know that at this point, and that's making packing next to impossible. I don't know what to DO with it all. My mom said I can leave some stuff for a while, and store some of it too. At this rate, I'll be storing everything except my clothes and a few books. And no matter what, I have to clear my bookshelf so I can bring it. Books are fucking heavy, too.
That's all, really. Just wanted to put that fun little revelation somewhere. I elaborate on that topic a little in a video I filmed today while packing. Don't know when I'll edit that. I shouldn't have been so dramatic about this packing business so early in the game. If you curl up into a ball prematurely, then there's nothing to do later but curl up a little tighter.
Well. Back into the fray, I suppose. I think I just need to Gryffindor up about living without some of these things, at least for a while. Like until I'm 30. No more posts about packing/moving, I promise.
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