I'm getting old

I'm a saver. I keep little notes, tickets, pictures and anything else to remember the good times. I'm cleaning out my room, and I realize that I'm clinging to the past. I have piles of little things that seem unimportant, but that mean too much to me to throw them away. Examples?

- A note from my niece written on a notepad from my old workplace, telling me how much she loves me. I had to work a lot that summer, and we both missed spending time with eachother.

- A ticket from the Raske Menn show I was going to on 28 nov. 2007. It's slightly yellow and fragile, but I still have it. I wasn't going that night, because I had been to Førde the whole day and I still had to write a essay. But my friends called me just before they were leaving and convinced me. It was great and I didn't even care that I ended up writing a whole essay in bed after midnight.

- A hand made Harry Potter card from a dear friend, a girl who has worked here for 3 summers and is kind of a part of the family. She has put pictures of both of us on it, and the text on the back is written in Norwegian. She is dutch. The thought of the trouble she has gone through makes me smile.

- A hand written letter from my mum's niece inviting me to her wedding and to read the ''wedding declaration'' after the wedding. I was to young to be her witness, so. I was present when she re-met her old boyfriend whos he hadn't seen in 20 years. They were both at the same time in Bergen and we ran into them. It was like a movie or a tv show. It's weird tot think about that if we hadn't gone to teh other side of the bay to get an ice-cream they wouldn't have reunited. Maybe there is a God.

- A little dreamcatcher I bought in Netherlands when I was 9 or something. It is insanely little. I didn't have much money and the big ones were expensive. It used to hang besides my bed, and I developed a habit of twisting and turning it before I went to sleep. I don't know how many times have asked me to shut up with the tingling.

Enough examples? I got plenty. I feel like an old catlady, hanging on to her past through small things. And I'm 16. I need help.

I'm cleaning out my room because my parents are remodeling the whole attic. Which is great, but it makes me kind of sad to. I hate having to pack, probably a little thing I got from the move. I don't like the thought of not sleeping here anymore. Everything that happend here, all the laughter, tears and plotting. The secrets that were shared, the ones that everyhone understood but that were never spoken out loud. I've redecorated this room a thousand times, I have spilled blood, food and drink over the floor. I've stomped when I was angry to annoy my parents, I have shouted out the window to the drunk villagers on party nights and I've watched the rain and the stars and the threes getting abused by raging storms. I have climbed up the emergency ladder on the side, both for kicks and to put my salty towel out to dry after jumping in the fjord. All the family members and friends that I ahve shared this room with and everyone who entered it and were shocked by the spash of colour they walked into. My wallpainting that I spend a weekend on, my closet with it's chalkboard doors and the ancient tv that never worked when we actually wanted to watch a movie, but that produced scary noises when it was supposed to be off.

I'll miss this room and I'm finding it difficult to pack 6 years into boxes.