What I Left Behind

With the lease on my apartment coming to an end, I've been slowly moving my things back into my family's house. Even with the many potential pitfalls of this decision, I've decided to stay with them until this summer. If I find things become unbearable, I've already made a deal with Tim to move into his apartment's tiny, overpriced extra room.

It's the oddest feeling to be back in my childhood room. Growing up, I was never one for throwing things away, so the shelves and walls are covered in trinkets that I found and received from the age of 0 to 19. When I originally moved out, I left all of this behind. Being back here is like a little time warp into my younger days: there are plenty of stuffed animals, that I got before I turned 10. There are tiny, collectible statues of soldiers, and cats, and rare coins; all of which were given to me by my Grandmothers or family friends. Quite of few useless souvenirs, from family vacations. The posters on the walls have all been there for at least 7 years. I swear that some of these things probably even came with the room.

I realized a while ago that I don't need many physical possessions to be happy. When I left all these items behind, I never gave another thought to them. From my apartment life, I've obviously recollected lots of useless objects, but I'm sure I could do without them as well. What remains in this room, which is a hell of a lot, is pretty much just decoration.

I think the odd feeling I get is because all these trinkets are reminders of a younger me, that I am no longer. I'm not some 10 year old kid anymore, who spent his time playing with plastic animals and lego (although anyone could argue I currently have the mental capacity of a 10 year old). I'm not the 6 year old who loved collecting things and cat poster. I'm also not the 15 year old who just went along with his parents' ideas and suggestions. In a way, the room feels like it belongs to a stranger. None of this is mine and I don't want to go back to it.

Tomorrow or the day after, I'm going to box up all these things. They won't be thrown-out, but instead stored away and saved. Memories and reminders are nice, but I don't need these surrounding me. I've very much a become a different person than the child that originally kept these things and called this room home.