I think as much as I try to love other places, no matter how much I prefer bigger, bustlier cities, there will always be a part of me that will be left in Bath. Its quaintness and smallness has both been a blessing and a curse—too many beings crammed in too little a space, too few opportunities for even a small fry like me.
I knew I was going to move on from this place eventually. I always tell myself before moving on that I’ll be fine, moving on is the easier step in the process. But if I have to be honest with myself, I’ve grown far too sentimental for this mindset.
I think that’s also what happens when my being depends on whatever moment I’m in. I get so caught up with what’s happening around you, that when it’s time to move on to the next moment, I freeze.
Bath is where everything started: my first taste of independence and freedom, and dipping my toes into the cold, vast pool of adulthood. It’s where I found myself being tried over and over again, a test to my perseverance and strength. It’s where I’ve fallen and didn’t get up for days at a time, but gathering myself, I would pick myself up all over. It’s where I finally believed in myself enough that my newfound friends won’t abandon me, even when I withdrew any and every part of me. It’s where I found my first love despite forsaking the notion only a week before. It’s where I learned that no matter what I’ve learned and experienced, something will always be in the horizon, just out of reach.
A million memories were made here. There will always be a part of me that wishes that I could make a million more. But I knew I was going to move on from this place eventually.
For now, I’ll shed tears for all the goodbyes I’ve had to say today. This bus ride isn’t the hardest I’ve had to do, but it’s one of the heaviest. Eventually, I’ll break into this new city like a shoe and find my happiness again. And if there ever comes a time where I need to leave again, I’ll tentatively take my first steps, but for now, I’ll save my moving towards a new safety.