**Your pack a splode.**
I’m stuffing my pack so full I’m really concerned it’s going to explode once I get there. I can’t even get all my clothes in the center compartment. Either I’m going to have to cut down on clothes, or find another way. Damnit I should have paid better attention when I was buying a pack. Cutting down on the sleeping bag wasn’t a great idea, either. "A few extra liters" that would have cost me double of what I paid now, screws up the whole thing. I can’t put it in horizontally at the bottom, where it’s supposed to go. Instead I have to shove it in vertically so that it takes 2/3 of the center section. Smooth ey. I can jam my socks and small stuff in the corners next to it, but that’s not much. 2 fleece sweaters on top, also taking a lot of room because I didn’t bother to take lightweight ones, and it’s full.
I think I’ll manage. I will get this shit to norway if I have to tie it on the outside, which I’ll probably have to. The tent, sleeping mat, shovel and medkit are already strapped on the pack.
What I am most concerned about are breakable things. I want to take a few unnamed items that Will break when jammed in the pack like that. I still haven’t figured out how I’ll sort that out. Oh well I got time. I’m only leaving like, TOMORROW and I’m going to my friend’s later today. Oy the stress, my poor system.
In the mean while my stepmother does everything to make it more difficult for me. She throws my shit off of anything I put it on whenever I turn my back. "I don’t want these filthy things on my table" or "That’s my daughter’s bed. (a never-used bed in the computer room) You’ll get it dirty." are her excuses. The fact that this gear has never been used and is clean as can be, makes no difference to her. So right now it’s all spread all over the fucking floor and now she’s giving me shit about that. It seems like she doesn’t want me to leave, she probably just loves me too much. Where the fuck else am I going to pack? In my room? It’s full of shit that isn’t even mine after years of treating it like this house’s dumpster. I got a fucking couch in pieces in there. So whenever she opens her mouth now, I just smile and pollitely give her the finger. She can cram it.
I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow. What the hell I’m doing, not a soul knows and I least of all. A cool thing is, if it totally turns out to be horrible, I have no one to blame but myself. If you can blame someone else you don’t learn a thing, but if you know what You did wrong, you’ll be able to do it better next time. It doesn’t nescessarily have to be a totally super amazing trip, as long as I learn from it.
Dumb fact is, I know I’ll get homesick. I know I’ll miss my friends, Sven Co-op, my guitar, questionable content, pretty much everything except for the source of stomach ache that has, thank god, left the house right now.
Alright, Today is the day. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, and I miraculously managed to jam most of my gear into py pack. I’m letting it cool down for a moment.
"Today I’m going to Norway." I could say it a hundred times but it’s still not getting through. I’ve never done anything remotely like this, so I have no clue what to expect.
Thanks to my friends, you guys were incredibly supportive. Too bad you couldn’t come. Next time, maybe.
I’ll see you suckers. Don’t wait up for me.