Yesterday I transferred a huge amount of the mind-shattering clutter out of my room, and so I am once again endowed with the beauty of space. A couple of loads were taken down to my new place via suitcase, while a further amount I waved goodbye to at a couple of the local charity shops. A large bundle of unwanted clothes found itself in the Salvation Army fabrics recycling bin, and the skyline-painting was given to a friend who really liked it. So, I have reclaimed some territory, and not only has eating become a less precarious affair, but writing has become less of a task as well. However, the sudden reduction in possessions has made me realise just how close I am to leaving the place I have known as home for the past eleven months. My time as a student is almost at an end.
When I moved here I was terrified I would be buried in financial restrictions, and while it has been a struggle it’s not nearly as bad as I had imagined. With my final year of University on the horizon, and a difficult break-up just behind me, I was standing on the precipice on uncertainty; how strange it is to find myself now at the end of such a defining period of my life.
I’ve only got a few things to get sorted now. I have to pack to large shelving units worth of books so that we will be able to carry them. A challenge. Also, my entertainment area needs to be disconnected and stored, each console with its own components, ready for moving. Despagettifying wires is going to be fun. That’s all that’s left, and now that the distraction of packing is nearly complete, I find myself having the time to observe the empty spaces remaining where pieces of my life once stood. I remember each day that passed here; despite everything happening outside, they were happy, and they were mine.
I was talking about this with my dear friend Andreas, explaining how sad I was that the home which has been my safe-house in a worrying and emotional time was soon no longer going to belong to me, and he said this: ‘But that time has passed now’, and he is right.