There can be nothing more depressing than having to pack up the remnants of your childhood in to cheap plastic boxes from Carrefour.

I leave Malaysia in 5 days. And should I decide to work and live in America, this is the last time I will be leaving home with it REALLY being home. In the future, when I come back, I will be a guest in a guest room.

As I sort through my things, I look at old photos and keepsakes. Most of the things in my room now are just keepsakes. Everything practical like clothes I need or books are all in America or in the luggage I never unpacked when I came back home.

Some things that used to be important are no longer important. Things I used to like, I am no longer fond of. Everytime I sort through my bookcase, it is an indicator of change and growing up. 

The first time I felt startled by it was when I was in secondary school. I used to love reading all those stupid, sexist Enid Blyton books. Of course I never realised how sexist they really were. You could never tear me away from books when I was younger. I'd read during dinner, in the shower. I had a book bag just for carrying one storybook around wherever I went. I swear I loved those stupid books. Then I read them again and they were so stupid. So I threw them all away.

I sorted through my bookcase again a few days ago. I threw away all those R.L.Stine books and Sweet Valley books. I saved one about cheerleading coz I'm nostalgic. It's what got me on to cheer in the first place. I threw away all my Judy Blume and Paula Danzinger books. I kept one coz my grandparents gave it to me and its the only thing i have with my grandfather's handwriting in it. I threw away all my stupid kids books ages ago. But until now I keep one book. Friends are Forever by Hans Wilhelm. It's one of those illustrated books with half an A4 page of text. But I keep it coz the illustrations are really good.

I have cases and cases of stuffed animals. Some my parents bought for me. Some my ex bfs bought for me. Some my friends bought for me. And I just cant get myself to throw them away. It's quite ridiculous seeing the room of a 21 year old full of every species of stuffed animal imaginable.

There are a lot of things in my room that I keep but never look at. Expensive jewellery my ex gave me. The old chewed up frisbee my dog used to eat out of. The gold pendant my dad bought me in Spain. The newspaper clippings with my photo in it. The Chinese New Year card my friend gave me full of inside jokes that make me laugh.

I throw some things away. I keep some. My drawers and cupboards get progressively emptier. And as the clock ticks it just gets closer and closer to the date when I really leave home for the last time.

I'm supposed to be an adult but I just want to stay here with my stupid stuffed toys and never outgrow Enid Blyton books.