I haven't moved out of Hall since I stepped foot in that particular room 2 years ago. Just as time passed more swiftly than I imagined, my belongings accumulated sneakily. Every photo, every piece of paper, every container reminds me of something. I thought it only happened in the movies. People look at stuff and then there are flashbacks. Today, almost every item that I laid eyes on or touched roused emotions and memories. It was strange because they came unexpectedly so it felt like I was assaulted. But they were mine, these emotions and memories were in me and I was supposed to be in control. But I wasn't.
There were times I was close to tearing but I ended up choking on an invisible ball of emotion that formed in my throat.
Packing was thus arduous and draining. Despite being more decisive and throwing away as much as I could, there were still plenty I could not part with - the same things that would have difficulty finding a place in my house. I ended up with more bags than I could carry in 2 trips. I was confused, frustrated and drowning in the surrounding dust.
Finally I was more or less done. It was a crazy 2 hours. It was as if I fast-forwarded and lived 2 years in those 2 hours. I've done so much - the good, the bad and the ugly. True, there are things that I'm proud of, and nice memories like how I started my Hall life as a pageant contestant. But much more than that, there's so much I can't change. There's so much I look back at with regret. And there's so much that's out of control. I can't relive the good parts either. I can only look back, pathetically, knowing that it will not come round again.
It has also been the most recent two years of my life, the two years that I felt that I was responsible for most of what has gone on and for that, I'm proud of how it turned out. It could've been much worse.
So much drama.
I should be glad. I am. I am happy about where I am now. I don't need a restart button. I just need to march forth, bravely, and carry on.
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