Packing

Packing for the summer feels like stuffing time into boxes.

I've lived in seven different places since I graduated high school almost three years ago. Three of those places I've live multiple times. I have shit everywhere. At my dad's, in my favorite ex's barn, my grandma's, in the possesion of a friend who wrote me off and thieved my stuff.

I want all of my stuff back!

i hate packing more than you can ever know. i live in so many different places, i never know what to take, what to leave. and i always take the wrong things, or leave important things from one trip to another.

i want three copies of everything i own. then i could just pick myself up, and leave. only have to remember my cell phone. and some cash.

yeah. that's the life.

I'm slowly getting things I need packed up and ready to take home over Break. I always seem to end up with more than I need.

I've been in this odd mix of packing and unpacking since the beginning of break. It becomes tiresome, shoving everything I deem important to me into boxes and tubs and crates, and lugging them up and down stairs, knowing it'll all have to be done over again every time I move some where.

When do I get to stop? When do I get to settle down and enjoy my life again, and stop being stop being this academically minded nomad that I've become?

I want to go home. And I don't mean back with my mother. I mean HOME, where I get to live my life the way I want with who I want.

I'm sick of packing.