These decorations have been on my wall for the past five years. From when I went away to school in San Francisco, from my thrift store days to my days working at urban outfitters, all the way to now.

I have pictures of high school friends and friends I’ve made over the years all over these walls. I have pictures of past lovers, one dead, some friends who have died too.

These decorations have seen me snort coke, smoke weed, go insane on speed and have seen me mellow out on narcos and get loud with ecstacy.

They have witnessed all of my lovers. From my first girlfriend to my last boyfriend. Conversation pieces after love-making.

These decorations have witnessed me cry like a bitch.
They have witnessed me squeel like a little girl because a guy I really liked texted me.
They have witnessed me spill pho on my bed and yell “Fuck!” 

I look at these and these decorations represent who I was back then. I need to take these down and put something else up. This isn’t me any more.