Because I didn’t sign up for my current home for the next (academic) year—since I don’t intend on staying in grad school for much longer (fingers crossed)—I’ve been forced to look for a place to stay for the last few months of this year. I’ve gotten to see a number of different apartments, some very nice, others not so, but the process on a whole has been weirding me out; none of them feel like home.
I just don’t want to move. I feel like I’ve lived at my current place forever, and it’s home.
Through this awkward process, I’ve finally managed to find a place that’s not too exorbitant that’ll do for the next few months, but I’ve realised something a little deeper.
I’ve lived in Ann Arbor for all my adult life and it’s home. As overrated as it is and as annoying as the noise from the Art Fair can be, it’s my home.
It’s where I’ve learnt and grown and experienced what little I have of life. I just don’t want to leave.
I don’t believe that the transition to yet another country will be even remotely pleasant.
But! But! It’s the UK! It’ll be fine!
(says the girl who has no idea where she’d end up if she had Dorothy’s Ruby Slippers, and clicked the heels together while saying “There’s no place like home…”)
(okay, no, that’s a lie, she’d hope to end up in Scotland.)