my things are already packed up in a pretty strippy box that is sitting unobstrusively on the floor.
but somehow i just cant bring myself to pick it up and bring it home.
i guess that action on my part would mean actually coming to terms with the current state of things and acknowledgin the end of it all and a large part of me is not sure if i am ready to take on an empty room.

feel like a caterpillar locked up in a cacoon. wraped up in the security of darkness as around me things continue moving continue changing, oblivious to my absence.
however, every caterpillar becomes a beautiful butterfly and i seem destined to simply continue hiding in this shell that i have spun for myself.