twenty kilograms
In the midst of packing. At the moment, it's very likely that I've got overweight luggage- as always.
And I've only just emptied my cabinet. Yes.
Packing is tiring. First you've got to decide on what to bring (that decision-making process in itself becomes redundant in the end because I always end up bringing everything); then you've to make stingy room for them (that requires massive zip-lock bags, extending your luggage space by unzipping the otherwise slim bag, and sitting on it so you can zip the whole fat thing shut). Then you worry about exceeding the weight limit (because I do not like having to risk unloading anything in front of the queue at the airport). I ought to be a seasoned packer by now but I hoard big time, and I can't change that despite countless trips to and fro. I cringe at the thought of three other luggages waiting for me back in Sydney. Three other luggages and four trips worth of other misc stuff accumulated over a mere two and a half year stay.
And it's such a bittersweet affair (although, "context is all"). In many other occasions, this would be easy; this is particularly not. You would think I'd get better at this with each passing year and though I've eased into accepting the fact that I've now two homes, it's evident that of the two, only one retains the capital H despite change. That being said, there exists somewhere at the back of my head a list of things to look forward to. My final semester, Winter, church, coffee. Oh believe me I could come up with plenty. But for the moment, none of these can replace the dread I feel about leaving Home, again.
This makes an international student. One constantly straddles and becomes the in-between.
And who knows when this would finally be over?
