Published in Misc - 1 min to read

Packing sucks and I hate it. The obvious way in which it sucks is that it’s stressful, I have to make decisions about what to take and what to leave behind etc etc, but the thing that I’ve found sucks more is how much sentimentality has been involved in the process. Everything I own has some amount of memories and feelings attached to it, good or bad, and sifting through all those in such a short space of time is pretty overwhelming.

Packing feels so final - if I leave something behind, it may as well evaporate straight into the ether. The sentiment attached to it is lost to the wind as well. I know I have a tendency to hold on to things both emotional and physical for too long, which makes me inclined to try to leave more stuff behind, but I’m struggling.

At least it is all a very condensed feeling, one I know will be all over come Saturday, once I unpack. The whole process has so far served as a reminder that I can feel very deeply, and that quite a lot of the time I don’t enjoy that experience.

See other posts in the Moving To London series