going thru my first breakup/trying to pack up my dorm for the semester. wrote this piece and wanted to share

Room 626

Today is May 1st. I’m supposed to move out in a week, and all I can think about is how I’m an entirely different person than I was when I moved in. Looking around this room feels like a time capsule for something that hasn’t even ended yet. Everything I see is through a frame of her.

My mirror isn’t what I use to check my outfit in the morning, it’s the place she left her bag after coming over for the first time. My bed isn’t where I sleep at night, it’s the place where we laughed, cried, kissed, held each other, and I experienced so many firsts. She’s everywhere in this room; the stains on my sheets, the hair dye on the walls, the bag of her stuff sitting below my desk as I’m writing this. I don’t want to give it back to her.

She’s as much part of this room as my mirror and my bed are. I feel like as I’m packing up all my things she should be coming with me.