Official

So it's official

Before I get into my story of the day, I'll do a little bit of explaining..

Im in BC as of the time being, for easter. Came down with friends for a wedding (well, they came down for the wedding, i came down for easter).

Yay BC fun.

But yes. Back to the story.

Home is officially not home anymore. How do I know this?

Well, it's simple you see. I have come home to the house that is no longer my own. None of the horses are the same, most of the cats aren't the same. The truck isn't the truck I left my parents with. There is city water coarsing through the pipes in the washroom. As I type this, i am typing at a computer which is connected to high speed internet access.

And the final nail in the coffin. My room no longer exists.

The bed is gone, my posters are gone, everything that comforted me for 13 years of my life is missing.

I can't really say I'm overly saddened or surprised. My decision to leave was made first, so really, I only have myself to blame.

But over the last 4 years, there was always this room. My room.

I suppose in my own naiivity, I thought it would always remain as I left it. An eternal shrine to my former self. Always waiting for the next time I would come home to play videogames after staying out all night to avoid my family.

I haven't played video games in here since I graduated from high school.

All the CD's left on the shelf are embarassing (although, perhaps i should take them with me, i mean, they're probibly cool-retro cd's by now)

There are remnants of my trip to europe covered by a layer of dust. There are remnants of my baptism, covered by a layer of dust. Remnants of fish i havent had since grade 9, covered by a layer of dust.

Dust covers traces of last summer, in the form of a pack of cigarettes and a "lighter for a loonie" petro can scripto piece of crap.

The books gramma bought me in grade 8 (most of them read) now sit in a cupboard. I don;t suppose it will be too long before they go the way of the bed and the posters.

Such is the life of one who is growing up, I suppose. If i was more poetic, I'm sure I would write an ode to loss of innocence. Memories of that fill this room as well. Things I suppose I would long to forget, were it not for the room blaring the memories back to me as I type this.

What can happen in 13 years? It's a lot of time. I can't even fathom the amount of time I've spent in between these walls. How much time I wasted doing the things I love. How much time I spent doing things that bored me. This room was my childhood.

It isn't anymore.

Easter 2006: Neal has proof Surrey isn't his home anymore.

When can I go back to Edmonton so i can lock myself in my room (and cry)