I knew that moving to a brand new city, alone, was always going to be hard.
I knew that moving to a brand new city, alone, was always going to be hard. I never knew it would be this hard. Laterally passing my postal code at the start of the pandemic, helped absolutely nothing either.
I wanted to prove to myself though that I could do it. That I could genuinely live alone. I’ve lived with good roommates, and a fair share of bad ones. What kind of roommate am I, though? What is it like to actually live with... me? Shudder at the very thought.
Whenever I mention my apartment, people always assume that I live in a studio. Which is a rather fair assumption. I wish. If only I could be so lucky. That would be an idyllic daydream. It sure would. The technical term is “micro-suite”. And it sure is micro. It’s one room. The smallest suite in the complex. My bed is in the living room, which is in the kitchen, which is in the office, that’s right by the door.
The grand irony being, that the school I moved here for is literally at the end of the block. And yet I was stuck inside my 10x10, while online over Zoom, for the entirety of the program. When I could have saved so much more money by staying home. And yet, I don’t regret anything within the time that I’ve been here. If I’d stayed home, yes, I would have saved money. So much money. I’d be a lot less stressed out, but ships aren’t meant to stay in the harbour. That’s not what ships are built for.
Being alone all this time, I’ve had much to pause and reflect on. It’s hard to process just how much I miss hanging out with my friends. We can Zoom from time to time, here and there, but it’s never the same as being together in person. I’ve gone back home three times since moving away. Going home is definitely bittersweet.
Some of the best times I’ve had in the past were hanging out with friends. Drinking, smoking and laughing. Lots and lots of laughing. I always knew I had a good time with my friends because whenever I’d leave them, my cheeks would always hurt from laughing so much. I miss that. A lot. If you’re an experienced smoker, you know your tolerance. Even so, there are contributing factors to a potential bad trip.
Factors like smoking too much and greening out. Glad that hasn’t happened to me in years. Mixing and not being able to balance to the point where you’ve lost all sense of control with your faculties. Being in a bad headspace. Just to name a few. Smoking and drinking with friends that you love and trust, who make you feel safe is of paramount importance.
Two and half years later and I’m still here in this tiny apartment. Alone. Hoping, wishing and praying that a new place to live will appear on the nearby horizon. One day. Some day. Soon.
Spending time with those you love, keeps the demons at bay. Hanging out with your best friends, ordering pizzas and partying until all hours of the night, laughing and crying. I’ve been chasing that dragon ever since.