It’s a shocking hour somewhere in the AMs, and I’ve finally finished going through all my stuff. Not the way I went through it when I drove home from college … no, this time “going through it” roughly translates to “throwing every last bit of it away.”

College transcripts? Cool geometry proofs? Notebooks full of emo musings and song lyrics? I guess when you move to New York, you don’t get to keep your old memories. Or maybe they just have to move to your head because you can’t afford the luxury most people have of hanging on the relics of days past.

Well, I hope I never miss you, songs I wrote junior year and exams on which I scored A’s. The city of blinding lights has called, and chances are I might never have remembered you, anyway.