We’re slowly erasing evidence of our existence in this apartment. Taking apart the things I have put together carefully throughout the five years we lived here.

I had kept the artworks up at the last minute because the moment I take them down automatically depersonalizes the space. Now it looks so barren, devoid of feeling that there was a family that once lived and loved in this place from 2018-2023. Members have come and gone one by one and now only four are left to strip away memories embedded in this home.

I woke up this morning at around 6 am, with my fairy lights, which I had coiled to prevent breakage, still lit. It gave me a bit of comfort, still a sign that this is my home, well, at least until Tue morning.

Twin I saw these lacy things and she said, “these are too sheer! It’s not even good for sleeping in. Are these sleepwear?”

Of course I didn’t answer her and proceeded to chuck these inside a plastic bag. I WILL BURN THESE when I get to our new house. Evidence of my being a human appliance and a sex slave to a man who didn’t even regard me as something more than that.

I need to pack my piano and the stuff in my drawers. And of course my work station.