Blank Walls

I just had the best study break in the history of study breaks: we bounced off to Disneyland/Orange County for a good four days while other people were still taking finals/studying and whatever it is you're supposed to do in college. Disneyland definitely lived up to its reputation as the happiest place on Earth, but before I recap my weekend there, there's a little something else I wanted to share.

Cassandra and I just took all of the decorations off of our walls and started 'packing' for real. It's depressing. It's scary. The walls - they're just so blank.

I mean, the changes had already started before we left. When we came back today, several people in the dorm had already officially moved out. Many halves of many rooms were completely empty, devoid of any sign of the person who had lived there for the past nine months. There's a lingering question - had they really lived there? Did it all actually happen?

As I took down one thing at a time, I was bombarded with memories.

Cassandra's desktop computer that we had brought back to her house this weekend ... Gone. All of those hours of Friends and Ally McBeal and Gilmore Girls we had watched back in fall and winter quarter mysteriously became unreal as well. The pictures I had of my family and friends back at home on my wall- the heart shaped collage, the clothespin-hung line of photos... Gone. The random Friends poster I got at the bookstore with Kylie on a trip to get birthday cards, the Hunger Games poster Karen got for me for my birthday... Taken down. The notes that Cassandra left for me when I was away... Neatly folded away. The glow-in-the-dark stars that we had so many conversations about... No longer glowing prettily on the walls. Our Christmas lights and other various holiday decorations which had made our room such a cluster... All taken down.

And I know there's more to come. Our shelves-- full of books and other little knick-knacks-- will soon be empty again. Our drawers and wardrobes will be shed of all clothes. The bigger bins and containers will be delivered to storage. The room will be rearranged like how it used to be. All of our stuff-- including us-- will be gone.

The room will be empty, blank, erased of our presence. Our home for nine months will be no more as it prepares to welcome new residents in three months.

I don't want it to happen, but I know it will soon.