August 30th

After arranging all my furniture back into the room I had lived in for four years I made a discovery that sickened me due to its sheer weakness.

For the entire four years I had lived here (a great portion of my life, the years that evolved me, the years that I finally became capable of turning an idea into an indulgence), my bed, my desk, my mirrors had all been in the same position. Four years I lived within the room’s basic geography. Fucking different people in the same positions, differentiating only where I decided to place my pillow (facing the window or not). Now upon my return, amongst all the suitcases and bags that contained nothing but the past, I finally returned from my expedition, vengeful.

What bothered me was that everything I owned was a memory, none of it had any use, I could live without most of it. Every article of clothing, book or piece of trash I had managed to horde. They crippled me with nostalgia, staring at me from the open faced bags, arresting me from parting with them. They had expectations.

I had to make a change. I arranged the bed along the window, desks parallel to each other and lamps on either side. Only until this morning, around ten, the sun had crept over my bed making it impossible to read. The way my desk and bed were arranged according to the sun rising, I realized, it was exactly how my room was in my previous apartment.

Perhaps it was a failed attempt at reassuring comfort.