Dear My Old Apartment,
I overall enjoyed my time with you. Looking back on the past year I'm amazed at all the different emotions I experienced within your walls. The highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Where I discovered my compulsive habit of always capturing a *sunset pic*. Where I listened to "Positions" by Ariana Grande too many of times to count. Where I made incredible memories with my friends and laughed until my stomach ached. And where I cried myself to sleep at the thought of never experiencing "that feeling" again.
"That feeling" being twofold throughout my time in your 600 sq ft. "That feeling" of being so inspired and fulfilled. Like I have a purpose and a plan that will work out. "That feeling" also involving someone else at times. I remember having intimate talks, swapping secrets, great sex, and some light heart palpitations here. Juvenile, never-been-hurt feelings while calling this apartment home. There was that one guy that I let take me on dates out of sheer boredom, poor guy. Then there was also that one guy who told me everything I had ever wanted to hear to just say he wasn't ready for commitment (dude's in his 30s come on).
In a surprising twist there were many more "good on paper" guys in your space that had the disappointing rating of 1/10 sexual chemistry. In your sanctuary, I realized that I really had come to terms with being okay being alone. When I saw the familiar writing on the wall that she was with a fuck boy, I swiftly ended it. While in previous dwellings I would hold on painstakingly long hoping they'll change. They never changed.
While I won't miss your small square footage per say, I will always be thankful for you. Here I started my peak glow up, learned how to cook more than the same two meals, became a morning person, did a lot of self-reflecting, drank a hell of a lot of Italian wine, and reconnected with someone from my past. I hope whoever inhabits you next has a similar transformative year. Thank you <3