The reality that I'm leaving for good still hasn't hit me. My room's packed and the boxes have been taken away so I'm sitting in this room (again that doesn't quite feel like my room) with minimal things and yet, I still don't feel like I'm leaving. Perhaps I've gotten so used to the pattern of accepting my surroundings and adjusting accordingly to whatever exists that it doesn't feel foreign to have all my stuff gone. Or perhaps it's simply because I never really felt that this room was mine. My stuff was in it, that's all.
I'm not quite sure what it is, I just feel odd. The fact that I haven't been sleeping on a regular schedule and work has been quite overwhelming is definitely a contributing factor. The heat hasn't been helping either. I definitely melt in heat. Blah.
In the end, I can't pinpoint what it is, but I guess I don't feel like I'm leaving. Do I know, deep down inside, that I'll be coming back? I don't want to come back but the reality of the possibility exists and it's something I can't deny.
What an odd place to be in life! I can't say it's a good thing or a bad thing, just that it's odd.