How in the hell do you pack four years of existence?
and walk away,
from corridors ringing with laughter and juvenile name calling,
from the nights of fights and loving embrace
How in the hell do you decide what to keep and what to discard?
and walk away,
from tattered friendships, and new born ones,
from an eternity of togetherness and solitary thoughts?
How in the hell do you pack four years of existence
in a two by three carton?
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