My Mumbling Thoughts

I look around and there’s so much shit everywhere. Just shit. Everywhere. Part of me really wants to just throw it all away or leave it behind and let the next poor group of people who have to live here after us deal with it. Maybe they could use twenty tins of Asda’s own peas? Or decorative lights? Or all of my dishes? I don’t care for any of it now. I don’t want any of it anymore. It’s all just shit. More shit, piled on top of more shit, on top of more shit.

Shit.

Packing things in suitcases, boxes and bags always makes me feel like it’s The End of something, as if one door is closing, yet a window is wide open with the wind starting to blow through. When you move, you’re usually leaving something behind, or someone behind or some place behind. Generally you say goodbyes, make sure everything’s packed tightly in the car and double check that you’re not leaving any lights on, and that all of the windows are locked. You usually walk around the empty rooms, listen to your footsteps echo and bounce off of the walls, and think, “yes, this is the end of me living in one place; now I’m moving on to bigger and better things.”

I am saying goodbye, as I always do when I leave a place that I’ve lived at for any length of time. It’s just another step in the “leaving process” that helps me feel like I’m done, it’s done. I can leave in peace and know that there’s nothing left for me there. I’m saying goodbye to the disgusting walls, to the unknown smell that always lingered around, the filthy floors and the pain in the ass washing machine. But I’m also saying goodbye to all of the depressing days and nights I spent in my tiny room, and goodbye to all of the horrible, dramatic events that took place. I’m saying goodbye to all of the stress, the worries, the pain, the heartache, the laziness, the mistakes, the obsessions and the god only knows how many headaches caused by all of the negativity. I don’t want to carry any of that with me into my future. To be honest, it’s so much heavier than all of my clothes in my gigantic suitcases combined.

The only things I’ll be taking with me are my beloved items that have been quietly sitting around the flat waiting to be moved to a happier place. If it can’t fit in any of my bags, it gets tossed. I obviously don’t need it, nor do I want to make space for it. And I’ll also be taking the small memories that I have been keeping in a safe place that I hide inside of me. All of the hours that Trish and I spent downstairs watching TV programs on Bridget. Or whenever all of us would be getting ready for a night out, with four different songs blasting out of our rooms and vibrating the walls, drinking beforehand and dancing in our high heels on the wooden floors. Or just sitting with Helen quietly in the lounge in the morning times and not saying anything to each other, and it not being awkward.

Yeah, I’ve grown up quite a bit, and I’ve learned my fair share this past year, but it was tough. For the most part I did my best to keep myself happy and not let the girls know just how much I stressed about things, but there were a few times when I would cry silently to myself in my room, because the pain was all consuming, and even though I wasn’t alone, I felt so secluded. I didn’t want them to worry, but I also didn’t want to always be complaining and crying on their shoulders. I know they would have said that it was okay and that they didn’t mind, but really, I know that there is only so much down time that one person can take, and I didn’t want to be the one handing it all out in large chunks every other day.

However, even though this was a pathetic second year, I have come out on the other side a better person, and dare I say, a stronger person. I have gained even more perspective about living with people and understanding myself. The greatest lesson learned? Nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, is perfect. Why? Because everyone makes mistakes, whether it’s forgetting about paying a certain bill, or making false judgements and not being open and honest about things straight away.

It’s true, you always hear people say it, and you know they’re right, but for the words to actually strike you in the face and for you to believe it, to understand it, to take in the words and have them mean so much more, is something completely different. Forgiveness is divine, and letting go of things - be it physical or emotional - is necessary in order for one to move on with life. It’s a hard, and very bitter pill to swallow sometimes, and I’m still learning every day how to move past certain things, but I’m sure it’ll get easier with time. Forgiving the little things is the easy part; it’s the bigger ones that take a lot longer to process and accept.

I can’t wait to shut the door one last time to this hellhole, and lock inside all of my past that’s not coming with me. Everything that I’ve been holding onto for the past two years can kiss my ass goodbye, because I don’t live here anymore.