goodbye apartment 79

I am currently sitting by my desk in my apartment, waiting as a bunch of young guys with wheely carts take my precious belongings to a storage facility where they will be hiding under tarps next to other people's belongings for a year. It is weird, because while I am sad about losing my things (my couch is pretty damn comfortable), I am more sad about what the loss of my furniture represents. My apartment has been the site of countless werewolf meetings, beyonce dance-offs, and joints smoked resulting in mind-bending conversations. Topics ranged from boys, to boys, to why we don't get boys, vagina brains, nature of gender difference, what constitutes proper, life-lasting friendships, how good pizza tastes, how I don't like pizza, what constitutes a proper "cheese dinner," why president's choice chocolate chunk ice cream is god's gift, and why we are god's gift to mankind. THEY SHOULD BE BEGGING. This apartment has been my place, our place to just escape from the reality of how people are, and has served as a utopia of how people should be, to the point that I squint from disorientation when I am outside. I will miss it.