(no subject)
I am moving. Not far, though - just to a new bedroom. It kinda sucks, because my room right now is huge, and the one I'm moving into is tiny. I have a fairly big bed (bought it myself when I was 16 and love it a whole lot), and it won't fit in my new room. So my parents are going to either buy it or "rent" it (by buying me another bed that will fit in the new room). And all my other furniture I've slowly been collecting since I was 16 won't fit in there, either. My desk is going with me, cause everyone needs a desk, but my shelves and my wardrobe and my table and sofa and my BOOKS can't move with me. So my books are living in the dining room, temporarily, and my clothes are living out in the hallway. It is kind of my fault cause I could have protested to all of this - but I know I won't be here this summer and I only plan on staying in this house for one more winter... so it'll be alright.
What is REALLY killing me is that I feel like I'm throwing my life away. I'm doing some major cleaning in my old room, sorting out stuff like dolls and books and toys I've had forever and still look good that I'm bringing to work, finally admitting that my old clothes will in fact never fit me again (I do believe that the extra fat on my stomach and butt is here to stay) and giving those away, too... and worst of all, going through my shoeboxes full of crap. I keep everything - I know it's a bad habit, but I can't help it. I went through a shoebox last night that contained bus tickets from 1998, movie tickets to Girl, Interrupted, Star Wars episode I and My Girl, drawings of cars from when I was 6 (I'm keeping those), a perfume sample I got from a magazine when I was 15 and my class schedule from 8th grade. After going through several of those boxes, I looked at the huge trash bag on the floor next to me. Then I looked at the "to keep" pile - the drawings from when I was 6, one of those flattened souvenir pennies, an old, crispy envelope from Austria, addressed to my grandma, scraps of paper with scribbles on them and two photos of me and my cousin. And I cried, cause I didn't want to throw away all those other things.
They're still going to be thrown out. I don't need them, they don't really mean anything to me, and they just take up space. It's just so hard to get rid of things you've owned for so long.
What is REALLY killing me is that I feel like I'm throwing my life away. I'm doing some major cleaning in my old room, sorting out stuff like dolls and books and toys I've had forever and still look good that I'm bringing to work, finally admitting that my old clothes will in fact never fit me again (I do believe that the extra fat on my stomach and butt is here to stay) and giving those away, too... and worst of all, going through my shoeboxes full of crap. I keep everything - I know it's a bad habit, but I can't help it. I went through a shoebox last night that contained bus tickets from 1998, movie tickets to Girl, Interrupted, Star Wars episode I and My Girl, drawings of cars from when I was 6 (I'm keeping those), a perfume sample I got from a magazine when I was 15 and my class schedule from 8th grade. After going through several of those boxes, I looked at the huge trash bag on the floor next to me. Then I looked at the "to keep" pile - the drawings from when I was 6, one of those flattened souvenir pennies, an old, crispy envelope from Austria, addressed to my grandma, scraps of paper with scribbles on them and two photos of me and my cousin. And I cried, cause I didn't want to throw away all those other things.
They're still going to be thrown out. I don't need them, they don't really mean anything to me, and they just take up space. It's just so hard to get rid of things you've owned for so long.