it's my fourth night in my bedroom at the newly constructed 2nd floor of our house. i remember my mom saying she didn't want a second floor way back in my childhood, but my uncle's car wasn't with us at the time and now it needs a garage. i was excited about this bedroom, i still am, but this fear of change i thought i'd lost in my childhood had reappeared. i used to have weird and strong attachments to places and items as a kid. if i stayed at a family member's house long enough to get settled in mentally, i freak out because it feels like i have to rip myself out of there every time. i got over it by touching every wall and surface to make a "memory picture" i could always go back to. i feel like i should have ran through our house before the construction and touched every wall, photographed every room from every angle, and with one of our cats gone, it will never be like that ever again. i just want to crawl back to my old, messy room like i'm loading a previous save from a video game where my walls are still yellow and my cat is still alive.