ImageI decided to move to New York City in December last year.

I made this decision for a number of reasons- some of which are kind of awkward, but oh well that’s part of what writing is about right? Talking about things that are hard to talk about. I was actually going to move there when I turned 18- I left high school a year early you see, and my plan was to work fulltime for a year and save and then get out of here.

A few things meant this didn’t happen, the first being that my parents ended their marriage (for the third time) which meant that I went to live with my weird and emotionally unstable father in a small apartment in downtown Auckland with his 29 year old girlfriend. Sounds fun huh. For obvious reasons this was a really fucking weird situation for me and was fraught with fighting, lying and all that other wonderful stuff that makes you wish you didn’t have a family. 🙂

Second, my mom got a lot more sick after the break-up and throughout this divorce. When I was a kid my mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis or MS for short. Stress and/or a big upheaval in your life can aggravate it, and my mom’s walking went from just “alright” to absolutely terrible in a matter of weeks.

Thirdly, I met a boy who I ended up staying with for nearly 3 years. For the most part this was a pretty dumb and “destructive” relationship but I think learnt a lot about priorities… and other stuff. Maybe. I hope.

Through those three years of staying here when I think I should’ve been in the States, I have attempted university (to horrible results, both grade-wise and my mental state-wise), worked several different jobs, just recently (and happily) seen the end of my parents’ awful divorce and had a really terrible break up.

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(Jesus I just read over what I’ve written so far and I’m really living up to the name of this blog. MY LIFE ISN’T ALL BAD! I’ve had a really awesome time and have great friends and a great mom and lots of nice things- I’m OKAY!)

In December last year when my big long relationship ended, I had a real think about things. What am I doing here? Why am I doing it here? I really want to get away from all of this. Why am I so angry and negative all the time these days? Why didn’t I leave when I was younger?

And that’s when I decided to go. Yep.

(Which some have pointed out to me looks a bit like running away. And to them I say I am all for running away, as long as you’re not leaving destruction of your own making in your wake. If you can, why NOT leave a weird poisonous environment? I’m fucking 20? I can run away if I want?)

This move has been an exciting light at the end of a bit of a grey tunnel for me. Maybe I need to “live in the moment” more, but I’m enjoying the anticipation at the moment.

I’m excited.

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