what’s behind: packing

“It’s just packing. I’ll do it later,” I said, multiple times.

Packing is easy. Technically, you gather all of your things then you stuff them up in a suitcase. But today, I see the light; I was pissed today, realising that packing needs a lot of time. And eagerness. And details. You must pay attention to details. All the things you’d want to go with you, and all the rest you would not.

Today I realised, packing is not as easy as it may appear to be.

Just like an individual whose heart is torn, the one who must move on.

The responsibility to pack your bags before you leave, is similar to the responsibility of one to fix one’s heart before landing love to another.

And what I realised even more: I used to be very keen and very able to do it but now? No, mama, can’t do!

As much as I hate packing nowadays, I procrastinate. I did not want to spend my time fixing my heart — I didn’t pack — because simply I’m just not ready to move.

Well, I lied.

I do try to fix me.

But there’s just this particular something that inerts me, makes me stagnant — like how much one hates to leave one’s home, even though home does not feel like home sometimes — makes me hate packing so, darn, much.

“It’s just packing. I’ll do it later,”

No it’s not ‘just’ packing.

Packing needs time.


Your heart. My heart.

Needs time.

You have to want to pack, for you to pack.

Ask yourself once more;

do you really want to pack, and go?

Are you ready to move, dear heart?

“It’s packing. I’ll do it later,” said my heart.

“I’ll do it slow, tenderly.

Watch me.”


23 July 2016, 11.07 PM


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