I took down my collage wall today (which, by the way, is exactly what it sounds like). For two hours, I carefully removed tape from the back of old pictures, faded show programs, fortunes from fortune cookies, souvenirs, layers of notes, scribbles, drawings, stickers and countless other artifacts that had all manifested themselves onto the sheetrock. I guess when I started tacking up little pieces of my life in middle school I'd envisioned that one day I'd have to take them down, but I never imagined it would feel the way it did. I didn't sob over magazine cutouts of Audrey Hepburn or the 7 or so Lord Of The Rings movie ticket stubs. Things that seemed to be the center of my universe in 8th grade really don't occupy much space in my heart and mind at all anymore, even laughably so. Although staring at the blank wall now is extremely bittersweet and somewhat lonely, I don't need something tangible to remember every little nuance of my life. The days and minutes that set my heart racing and left me laughing so hard I could barely breathe are still very real to me. The words I wrote down never to forget are still on the tip of my tongue and the faces that cheered me up and taught me about real, sacrificing love are clearer in my mind than any photograph. Holes left by tacks and chips left by tape will be filled in, tomorrow I'll dump a large amount of crumpled bits of paper into the recycling bin and have a moment of silence before planning what color paint to buy and paint over. Here's to quite a new beginning. Here's to filling up a few hundred more walls with my life.
Oh, and here's this for all you visual learners:
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