A suitcase closes around a particular idea of the person you expect to be while away.

What goes into a bag is a prediction. You pack for the person you think you will be: the one who runs in the mornings, reads two books, dresses for dinner, needs nothing to feel at home. Coming back and unpacking the untouched half is a small, honest report on the distance between that person and the one who actually went. There is no failure in it, only information.

Next time you pack, notice which items are for the trip and which are for the version of you you were hoping to become. Take both if you like, but know which is which.