Packing up your whole life in three bags – 22 years in 69 kilos – can get pretty depressing. I was going through my old books, certificates and files, and found so many memories. They came flooding back with a force that hit me squarely in the chest. The diaries I used to write in school, the sketches I drew, the stories I wrote, the weird doodlings on the corners of all pages and the “chits” I’d passed around with my friends in class took me back to a time when I was still innocent enough to believe that babies are couriered by Santa Claus from the North Pole. Now that I am mature enough to believe that there’s no such thing as the North Pole, I miss those days.

Then there are the people I’m leaving behind. Starting a whole new life without those close to me will be a challenge. I hope I can survive.

Packing up memories can be painful. Tearing up my old school notes stung my heart, but I knew hanging on to a past will not make the future go away. I’m prepared now. The challenge will be faced. The notes had to be torn, and new notes to be written. As I said, I hope I can survive…

Posted by Tatu…

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