What I’ll miss: Living out of a box
It was green. It was cardboard. It sat on a shelf that was somewhere below the shelf with all the Harry Potter books. It held some of my pajamas for initially-spontaneous-then-turned-regular-which-actually-means-almost-nightly sleepovers.
Behind the middle medicine cabinet door in this apartment my tootbrush leaned inside a ceramic cup. I also kept a small tube of toothpaste with it.
Above the towel rack behind the bathroom door my green bath towel hung on a small towel hook.
A bottle of shampoo rested on a bar in the shower.
A lot of my food was in the fridge.
I didn’t necessarily live there, but the actual tenants made room for me.
Because I wanted to be near them, as much as possible. My dearest friends.
Because we knew I’d be moving.
I miss them.
What I won’t miss: Paying rents when I have no income
It’s hard and expensive enough living in New York City: harsh, merciless, unsympathetic. When I lost my job, it became a little more difficult. I won’t miss how quickly my savings dwindled with every rent check, but I kind of fell in love with the struggle to survive, and even thrive here. I came to the city with no job, and I’ll leave the city the same way. People took care of me nearly seven years ago until I got back on my feet, and people were able to soften my fall over five months ago, even with as tough as I’ve become, up through now, as I depart.
Friends, thank you.