Packing up my life...

It's not easy. No one said it would be.

Packing up three years into suitcases.

Throwing away photocopies, copies of assignments, assignments, old exam papers...

Packing up my books right at the bottom of the bag I won't be taking home with me.

Looking at my room, my home for the past two years, clothes strewn around like dazed hurricane victims, books and papers lying around as my room mate packs her belongings into her numerous bags.

I had to leave. I can't stay in that room right now.

The pain...the pain of flipping through the back pages of your note book and finding an exchange there, a fading memory of a boring lecture that my best friend and I found so hilarious.

Finding poetry by B and I, illogical scribbles that made sense to no one but me and him.

It hurts. SO much. To leave behind the people you love, to pack up three years' worth of memories.

You end this life and start on a new page somewhere else, somewhere new, with new people, new friends, new lifestyle.

And it's scary. Incredibly frightening. To think of the unfamiliar. To be unsure.

What am I going to do next? What if I don't make friends? Where will I work? Will anyone hire me? How trapped will I feel, to not have the freedom of living alone?

How long will it take before I lose it completely and go crazy?

So many questions. So many answers. So much pain, so much regret.

I miss you. Yes, I know you're reading this, and you know I'm talking about you. I miss you. Already. And you know the pain won't dull when I leave. For either of us.

I'm packing up my life, my love.

Is this goodbye?