The old house stood dilapidated and full of memories. It was possibly the toughest task to pack a lifetime of happiness in preparation of moving out. The house was scheduled to be razed to the ground in a month and it wasn't liveable any longer.

I knew I had to muster the strength to leave my birth place, my childhood home, wish my neighbours a tearful farewell. Ours was one of the oldest houses in that suburban little colony.

I was going to miss my place. The mornings were magical. The sun streaming through my bedroom window, the vociferous chirping of birds, my father's dogs barking for no apparent reason, the domestic help pottering around the house.

The house had seen deaths too. All my pets were buried in the garden. I didn't want to bid the ghosts of my past goodbye. I wasn't ready to let go.

The time had come to me and move on. A new chapter of life had to begin. With a heavy heart I packed my belongings. This was permanent. I knew I would never return to live in the area.

My belongings were all packed and labelled neatly to avoid confusion. My clothes were all segrated into bundles. Most of the clothes and shoes were kept aside for the underprivileged.

I knew I was going to miss the sound of the ocean, the gorgeous sunsets from my rooftop, the hours spent watching ships on the horizon...

The steel blade ran across my slender wrists, blood began to spill on the floor. I collapsed, unconscious. I could feel myself getting lightheaded. I was as light as a feather. I began to float. I was now a part of the ghosts of my past.

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