Saying Good-Bye to London

Change does not come easily for me. I worry about every single circumstance that may or may not happen in the future without pausing to contemplate the reality of it all. I work myself up and become emotional. Finally, I resign to the inevitable nature of the universe and bitterly accept the future. 

But I'm not doing that this time. 

I've never been more prepared to start a new chapter in my life. Moving to London was a beautiful sidetrack to the plan I created when I was fifteen. When it began, I was constantly doubting the magic and dwelling on the fact that my plan was off-course. Slowly, London changed who I am and I just let it happen. 

Until September 2015, I planned on being a fashion journalist for Vogue or The New York Times. One month in London, walking among the West End's Theatreland, and I completely changed the course of my life. I didn't look back at fashion for a second. When you know, you know, right? 

My parents always tell an anecdote about me making my own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when I was five. Typically, they bring it up whenever I do something without permission (my motto is 'beg for forgiveness'). I pride myself on my independence. Being in a foreign country made me realize that I'm not as capable on my own as I thought. Everyday necessities can get done with no problem, but when I come home and lay down at night, my mind rushes with the amount of things I wish I could say but can't bring myself to. I'm lonely. I miss home. I need someone here. It is so hard for me to admit that I wasn't flourishing on my own. Everyone I cared about was so much more than a phone call away. I could feel the distance as if my heart was attempting to swim the Atlantic on its own. I wish that I could say that I learned how to deal with my loneliness in a super healthy way, but it still haunts me to this day. I know now that being independent and having a support group are not mutually exclusive. 

I left high school with a general idea about who I was. I knew what I wanted, but I realize now that I had no motivation to get it. There's no point in waiting around and waiting for everything to come. Good thoughts don't manifest good things. The same goes for bad things. I say it all the time: I refuse to let myself be subjected to pain. This means, I'm not putting up with toxic people, toxic habits or anything will only harm me. I don't want to lose friends, but if I'm not happy with the way I'm being treated, then there's no point in continuing it. For the first time in forever, I feel secure enough in myself to not stay in situations that hurt me. 

It's because of this newfound realization that I feel so prepared to go home and not come back to London for a very long time. There are only good things in California: the sun, my family, my boyfriend. Perhaps I'm swayed by rose-colored memories, but I'm so ready to be wrapped in that warmth. I've learned so much about myself these past nine months. I do think that it was fate for my life to go this way. The word grateful doesn't begin to describe how glad I am to have done this. But the word glad doesn't begin to describe how happy I am to be going home. 
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