I totally expected to miss my room and my things, but oddly I don't. I've only had a few moments when I wished I had something an that was usually to make my life easier rather than for a sentimental value. Then, the other day, I started looking through my old pictures and found photos I have of my room and at first I felt sad, but then I realized I didn't need to be because I can obviously look at it even here. Now, maybe everyone else doesn't creepily document their life like I do, but that just sucks for them I guess. I get to live here, and have my life there with me all the time. That's less metaphysical than it sounds, I promise.
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