Why I Love Where I Live

Tomorrow I move. I keep on moving, wondering if i will ever get the chance to stop and look back. Everything is constantly changing, I’ve grown used to that. Tomorrow I move into a new apartment, and although I did not want to be sappy about it, writing something that might make me cry later, I want to take a moment to sit and lay in the middle of my floor. I want to look up, as I did on New Year’s Eve back in twenty twenty. I had just gotten the key and unlocked the door to my new apartment, and I came in and looked around, and immediately fell to the floor, because my fever had just hit 101 degrees. My ex boyfriend was suppose to be there with me, but that didn’t happen as planned. I really admire the last two years and eight months that I have spent here. I wish I could stay here longer, just so I could soak in every minute of it. I want to take a walk down university boulevard, and see new colors I never noticed before. I want to see the sun painted across the sky, and find meaning in the little things as if they were meant for me. I want to see the world, as if this world isn’t only meant for lovers, but for those who have the capability to love as well. I have never been able to find the words to write this piece, I was hoping that the words would fall down and hit me on the head, as if this were all a dream. I bully myself for not being able to conjugate the words, I desire to speak all the time. I get so in my head about what I want to say, when I should spent more time saying and doing the things I want to do. I used my last dryer sheet this week to do laundry, and the last of my detergent as well. Something told me that it was meant to happen this way. A new beginning that smells like Moonlight Breeze. On New Year’s Eve I was suppose to see my boyfriend, but I was too sick to do that. Tonight I saw him, the day before I move into my new apartment. I wanted to pour a drink all over him, because I think he deserves it, but instead of doing that I walked away. Not that it was something to be proud of that I did that, but it just reminds me of how much I changed. There is no easy way to write about how thankful you are for everything that has happened to you. To sum up a very long story, one that belongs in my journal rather than in my writing, my old life has grown into something beautiful here. We grow up not wanting to be like our parents, when that is exactly what happens. My dad tells me all the time, “you’re just like your mom.” But somehow I see him in myself as well. We grow up not wanting to be like our old selves, and yet we learn to love that little child in us, that never got to enjoy the life we wanted. But now the older I’m getting, the more I realize that I can’t stop talking about how old I am getting. And also, I am learning that I am okay with letting go of all that criticism that I had against myself. I am accepting the compliments I get, rather than not believing in them. I have such high respect for the friends I have that tell me how great of a human being I am. I am not afraid to love anymore. Because for me, there is more to gain in loving and caring about people, than there is to hating people. But there is also much to learn in the people that I hate. I can accept that people don’t stay in your life as long as you want them to sometimes. You become someone you hate at some point, but you will find someone better at the end of it. While growing up here, I learned to leave the big gaps I have, for things to grow. All the dirt will become soil one day, soon to be enriched with experience. It will seem like sooner rather than later, that a garden will grow with beautiful flowers all around. Because suddenly I was living a different life that I was not used to. I woke up one morning and everything was different. I could not get used to it for a very long time, having a life I only ever dreamed of. I have almost no need to write anymore, with just as much need to continue writing, because I can not leave this part of my life undocumented. Yes my roof has a crack, yes the paint is chipped now after almost three years of being here, and the view got old and the sounds of creaky floors and doors never fully closing pissed me off. There is that weird light switch that I have to use in my bathroom, where I get on my tippy toes to turn it on. But I wanted a home for myself, a place I can feel free and alone when I wanted to be. I am good at figuring out people, and accepting that that is who they are. However, I suck at saying goodbyes. So maybe it is okay to say goodbye, right here right now. With all the cracks and gaps and fond memories that I made here, and the person that walked through that door two years and eight months ago, and the person who is leaving now…. Never thought the day would come, but you have convinced me otherwise my friend. August you beautiful time of the year, and my creepy and lovely apartment, thank you for always keeping me going forward and teaching me that looking back isn’t always worth it.