I believe one of my largest emotional shortcomings is an inability to easily move from one space to another. I think I get more attached to places than people, but maybe it's just the symbolism of it all. I just think it's so odd to stand in a place that you know is for the last time. How are we meant to endure it? Years ago I packed up my childhood bedroom. Last year I packed up my current bedroom. And today, I packed up my college bedroom. My childhood bedroom haunts me; to know it still exists across town, but no longer is mine. It's so odd to me. I lived and cried, broke and reformed in these rooms. Life simply goes too fast for me. I wish it would wait.