The moment has finally arrived: I am sitting in my new room in my new house knowing that I will never step foot inside the place in which I have lived since before I had memories. I took pictures of all the places in which I spent the most time. I had never seen them clean, much less empty. There are things I will always remember about that house. I knew what every last sound meant. I could locate a person anywhere in the house from the basement if I could hear them. I will always remember that light switch outside my room; the loudest light switch I have ever come into contact with. I will always remember that door to my downstairs bathroom and how Siri could never shut it. I will always remember sitting on the couch with Reid switching between Star Trek and baseball on the television.
That garage was host to many wars between the Fort and the Black Knights. Never again will it see such a feud between neighbors.
My kitchen was host to many "kitchen parties," which were usually insane and chuck full of some of the dumbest comments imaginable.
My fires, though not very impressive, were special. The kitchen was right there!

Am I sad? I can't really tell.
Am I looking forward to this house? No.
So, How does it feel? Wrong. The only word for it is "wrong." Separating from something that I was that accustomed to can really only result in such a feeling. I'll get over it. I'll stop thinking about it eventually. But whenever I pass by it, in the back of my mind it will always be my house.

Ravi struck at 02:56