The city has worn me out. It has chewed me up and spit me out like a piece of dirty chewing tobacco, and that is why I am leaving it. My lease is up in a month, and my roommate has decided to move out at that point so I have some decisions to make. I could stay and continue month to month, but I hate to live alone and eating his half of the rent would be quite undesirable. I could move out into another apartment that's less costly, or I could move back in to my moms house.
I chose the last of the three. Insane? Yes, I know. I fear within the next six months I will have lost my mind, or my sanity, or quite possibly both. The truth is this arrangement works out best for all involved. It saves me a considerable amount of money in rent, and what I will pay in rent will help my mother out. Not to mention it's so damn close to my new job, and away from the clutter of the city.
But I can't lie. I am going to miss the city and having every thing at my finger tips. I am going to miss having my own place with my own space. I am going to miss the freedom you loose when you live with your parents, but most of all I will miss the quietness. This house is so damned noisy sometimes.
Thus a new chapter starts in my life, I shall call it the chapter about healing and recovery.