Whenever I think about how my college life is looming ahead, I imagine Ned from Game of Thrones saying in that really ominous, foreshadowing voice, “College is coming.” Of course, I would hope that university is going to be filled with more excitement and less of me just trying to survive, like one would probably do during the winters in Winterfell.

But, jeez louise, the packing! Cardboard boxes are invading my dreams. At first it was the fear of not having enough. Now, I’m wondering how I’m going to somehow tetris my entire life in these little cardboard houses, and then manage to organize it in a way that I’ll have enough space to simply live in my dorm room. And then, what am I supposed to do with all the boxes after it’s all over? Should I save them for next year? But then where would I put them? I’m probably pushing for space in my room anyway. And then there is next year. Where do I get boxes then? Are my fellow college students going to scramble for boxes and leave the entirety of Richmond bankrupt in cardboard? And this is just the technical. I’d love to hear how anyone else moving into a dorm room is dealing with this, by the way.

We’re starting over. If you’re a college student, you’ve probably looked around your present living space and thought over all the change that’s coming (again, Ned’s voice is ringing loud and clear, even more ominously actually). I keep looking around, imagining how my new room is going to be, how life will be in general. I’m also wondering if I should take that Bo Burnham poster I got from the Make Happy Tour, the clown one that won’t really match anything, but will be really difficult to part with (Actually, I’ll just take the t-shirt instead). And as I begin to empty my room of what is me the most, I’m also wondering who me is; as Eat, Pray, Love as that sounds.

My memory chest was especially hard, not only because I uncovered some terribly, embarrassing, and melodramatic poems I wrote in like the sixth grade, but also because the memories that lie there can never be relived. I’m describing nostalgia. I basically repeated the definition of nostalgia to you. I should also mention that I managed to not tear up (this is a lie). I laughed a lot, too. Not at the poems. I cringed very hard at those and stuffed them in a folder so I can cringe at them in five more years, and then I’ll put them away again, so my grand-children can cringe at them, too.

I did laugh at a photograph of my grandpa flipping off whoever took his picture (I’ll probably ‘accidentally’ pack this). I also laughed at a photograph of myself with half of my hair dyed black, and then I laughed again when I looked at the caption on the back that read, “Another phase, you done yet?” Past me was also hilarious it turns out.

Other things I found were less funny and more intriguing. For instance, I un-wrapped a teacup I bought when I went to summer camp a few years ago. We visited where they filmed a few scenes from Dirty Dancing. The lake was mostly gone where Patrick Swayze lifted Jennifer Graye, by the way. But, the gift shop was selling dishes that they used during filming. I bought the last teacup and Patrick Swayze probably, maybe, most likely drank from it, but anyway. I also found unopened chopsticks that I saved from the dinner before prom and an envelope covered in doodles that I never sent to an old pen pal.

There were also plenty of movie tickets, receipts, and maps from theme parks and beach resorts that I had mostly tagged with dates and people so that present me would know where the heck they were from and who I shared these moments with. Past me was a little more organized it seems.

I’m going to suggest something that I’m going to do, something you probably already thought of because someone probably pinned it on a Pinterest board years ago: a new memory chest specifically for college memories to cry over later with your grandkids or your kids or your lover or just yourself (this is okay). I already put the oh-so-valuable teacup in my new memory box, by the way (and the picture of my grandpa for the laughs). Anywho, I still have lots to pack, hope the pickle that is packing isn’t so hard for you guys; good luck!