Have I lost my way?

Packing is slowly becoming very, very difficult for me.

I am pulling away and the strings are sticking and draping across the things I am leaving behind. My heart is quickly dripping and I told myself I would not think about this, let alone here.

The things we have built together are being shifted, and there is an empty space in the corner of the room, where my personal things belong and have buried themselves. Now there are stains on the carpet of where I have so fastidiously built a half-life, with nothing but a suitcase and a stack of books.

I dread what may come, mostly that I am not strong enough to walk it alone.