(This image was reprocessed and replaced February of 2012)
this is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization,
it's the sound of the unlocking and lift away
I have learned, during some moment of my life, that I cannot ever hope to predict how I will feel about something. I am always happy, happy, happy for long periods of time. Even if there is something looming, I stubbornly refuse to be anything but ignorantly carefree. Then there is always some moment--a moment that hits me like a brick to the stomach and suddenly I feel.
Today I began putting the contents of my dorm room into moving boxes. For this entire semester, I've been thinking about the fact I won't be coming back to this school next year. I've been okay with it. I've been happily accepting the fact I will be getting my photography education elsewhere.
I was in the middle of painstakingly removing the prints from my photograph wall when I realized what I was actually doing. It felt unnatural. Like it was some form of self-destruction, taking these photographs off the wall. But I plowed through it, because that is what any rational person must do.
Back at home, I have what I call a life drawer. This drawer contains a myriad of items that are one hundred percent useless and one hundred percent unbelievably important to me. They are sentimental items dating back to however old I was when I began to assign value to objects. Here at school, things like these have simply accumulated on my desk. I couldn't even look at what I was doing when I put them all in a box.
As it is, my room is half packed and I am refusing to let any of my friends in it because it really is that depressing to be in. It doesn't look like my room anymore. It looks like I've already left. In addition to that, I am fighting against the ferocious urge to take everything out of the boxes and put it all back.