Packing

There are several things I hate about packing, especially in this situation where I have to decide what goes into storage and what I need to keep with me. The latter category mostly covers clothes and shoes, at this point.

But when doing a really thorough cleaning or packing up everything that you own, you're bound to stumble across some things you thought you lost, or got rid of, that bring up memories. Some of them are good memories. They make you smile and bring you back some small thought that you'd forgotten.

Some of them aren't. Sometimes, you find something that you didn't want to remember.

See, I don't keep an "ex" box. It's always seemed a little dumb to box up the things that you don't want to think about and hide them away somewhere. Either they mean enough to you that you keep them, or they're painful enough that you get rid of them.

Don't get me wrong, I've got things that remind me of my exes. Pictures, trinkets, sometimes just a necklace that I wore that he liked.

I hated packing up my knick knacks, because the knick knacks I had here all had memories attatched. It felt kind of like denying those memories to pack them away and not know when I'd see them again.

Other things, I threw away. Dried flowers. Notes.

Some things I packed away because they're painful now, but I think I'm going to want them later. A couple of pictures, pieces of paper with childish scrawls in marker, paint, and pencil. I'll go back in a year and decide what I'm going to do with them.

I hate packing. Especially alone.