I’ve been feeling like it’s time to leave. And now I know. What was I waiting for? There’s nothing keeping me here anymore. I’m free so I’m leaving. Again.
It brings up a lot of feelings. Memories that I don’t think about often. It’s weird to think about who I was and how I’ve changed. This apartment never really felt like home. I didn’t put in much work. I didn’t at my old apartment either. Something always told me it wasn’t worth it.
I reached out for the familiar. It was around this time 2 years ago that I left New York the first time. Similar pattern. Different circumstances. There was no pandemic in 2018.
I’m not really sad about leaving. I’ve been ready. The sky looks beautiful. I’d go out but I really shouldn’t. This is 2020 and there’s a pandemic. Maybe I’ll get a pretty Midwest sunset tomorrow.
I’m driving away tomorrow in a minivan. That’s ridiculous. I’m taking myself on a long, solo drive to a place I love and I’m bringing everything I own with me. That’s not the worst and that’s all I got. No plan beyond that.
What am I going to do with my life? I thought I was on to something here. Where is this all going? I don’t know and I don’t know if it’s worth trying to figure out right now.
Same questions I was asking 2 years ago. I really was a mess 2 years ago. Same questions. I don’t have answers right now and that’s ok. It’s ok to not know and it’s ok to be sad. I thought I’d have more time. I really wanted this to work. I’m also a little nervous to spend so much time awake with myself. Alone.
But it’s happening. I’m leaving New York. Again.