I have five days left in my flat. It feels like there are mountains of things to do, and not enough time. This is wrong, obviously. Of course it’ll get it done, and on schedule. If there’s one thing I know of, it’s life’s little deadlines. Picking up and going, from city to city, country to country. They’re such a pain, and the only way for me to move forward.
I’m leaving everything that has been my life for the past 6 years, a life I loved in a town that has felt like home since I first set foot here. It is a choice, and not once since the decision was made have I questioned why I am doing it. It’s not just that I love him, although I couldn’t dream of a better catalyst. It’s that it makes sense. It’s time. I’m ready for it.
And yet, here’s one thing they never tell you - positive psychology has ruined us all, no joke: a new beginning is always the end of something.
