Surreality

It's weird to look around at what have been the artifacts of your life for several years, and know that they will no longer be. The apartment and the things in it will continue to be part of someone else's life, someone who I will always know and love very well, but no longer mine. If anything, knowing those people so well makes it even weirder. These objects which I once thought would be an integral part of the rest of my life--silly collected items, photos, gadgets, toys, decorations--are relegated to the periphery. They will still be present to me, but now distant and unknown in a certain way.

So in case you couldn't tell, I've moved, and the final packing and stuff-dividing was very strange. Certainly, the things that were hers before we met continue to be hers, but I had also come to know them as part of the setting of my life, which they no longer are. Stranger is the division of the myriad items acquired during the course of three shared years, reminders of happier times and strong emotion. What is more sad, when she wants something and you lose that physical reminder of happy memories, or when she doesn't care about something and you wonder if the meaning was as strong as you thought?

I don't want anyone to get the idea from this post that I am very materialistic, that I'm blown away by the loss of things. Little could be farther from the truth. But I guess for me, the removal of those physical objects represents that final, complete separation. Of course, I also don't want anyone to get the idea that I wish the relationship was still intact. Since we split, the separation was always there, always good, and always undeniable. Now it is just final. And man, when you spent that long assuming your life was following a certain path, the final erasure of that path is weird, no matter how good and necessary it is.