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bruddernette
- February 10th, 0:09
Moving on is pretty similar to moving out.
There's so much clutter everywhere; memorabilia accumulated over time, things you kept thinking they may come in handy, essentials. And really, when you first start, you have no idea how you are ever gonna get all these sorted. Everything just seems too precious to be thrown away and really IS IT NOT SUCH A WASTE.
But you don't exactly have a choice. So after awhile, you give up rescuing things since rescuing one justifies rescuing another and before you know it, you haven't thrown anything out. So you start being brutal and you just toss everything out.
Once in awhile, you get to something really really memorable and you are like "SHIT. I really should keep this."
So you toss most of the things out, and at the end of it, you find yourself in rubble with the shelves and drawers all empty. Everything that's worth remembering is neatly compartmentalised.
It feels empty though. You look at the shelves and drawers and you try to remember what it used to be like, but it's tough. You try desperately to hold on to that feeling of a home, and realised that contrary to what you expected, home is not so much a place as much of a state of being. It could be a palace, a hut, or even just a tent, but the moment you decide that you are leaving it in search of another, it's just gone.
A part of you would be reluctant, would ache to linger. But then you realise that a new owner would take over this place and there would be no signs left of you having ever claimed this place. The house has no semblance of who you are or what used to be, and honestly, the only one reminiscent would be you.
So then you are 'HECK ALL THIS' and you officially clear up and leave.
AND YOU DON'T LOOK BACK. You happily set up home in another place.