The worst part of leaving is packing. Last semester, when I left Baltimore, I was so sad while packing that I gave up, bought a bus ticket to New York, and went to go hang out with my friends for a week. I didn’t want to be alone in Baltimore, a city I love, with the end of all my memories, so I cut that end short and started making new memories. But eventually, I did have to go back to Baltimore to pack up my apartment. My mom was furious because by the time I got back, I only had couple of hours to pack.

Like most everyone else in the world, I’m an overpacker. I’ve gotten slightly better at packing “just the right amount” (as if there is a mystical, Goldilocks-style stuffed suitcase) since going to college, but nonetheless, I found myself with quite a little more than necessary in Berlin.

So, the night before your flight, as you sit around staring at all your clothes and trying to bring yourself to start packing, here is what you should leave behind:

It’s my last day in Barcelona and I have so many mixed feelings. I'm mostly sad because I don't want to leave this beautiful city. My friends and I started off the day by watching the sunrise from Park Güell. After that we went to Parc de la Ciutadella, the Barcelona Cathedral, and La Boqueria and we had our last lunch together. Then we headed over to the Bunkers del Carmel to watch the sunset.

I have a love/hate relationship with airports. Sure, I’m like everyone else in that I dislike the long security lines, the hours of sitting in the terminal during delays, and the stampede of people attempting to find their seats in the crowded airplane. But that’s not what I’m really thinking of in this moment.