20 December 2012

catch me

Packing for five months in one case and half a backpack is reminding me how attached I am to things.

I use them as a blankie of protection. They're my comfort and defense. I think about all the situations I could encounter and determine that I must be ready for all of them with just the things I am bringing with me in my cases. Such a lie, but so sweet in my mind. As soon as I face the solid brick wall of fact that tells me how impossible my desire to be prepared for everything is, the fear sets in.

I cannot pack the necessary backpacking kit, clothes, towel, and also fit the string of lights I want for my room. I cannot bring that one-more cardigan if I also want to get a teapot to bring home.

I am so sure of myself when it comes to these things. I tell myself I'm one of those people who can do without things. Then I try to pack for overseas and that whole facade falls apart. However, because of the constraints set on my by such things as the laws of physics and weight limits for checked bags, I find myself being stretched into that person I thought I was.

Someone who doesn't have to rely on her things to keep her safe. Someone who can run out on a limb and tell her savior, "catch me."

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