Leaving New York was hard for me. It was sad, and that made it strange.
I thought many times in my last few months - and said to many of you - that I was ready to leave, that somewhere along the way the city had lost some sacred meaning that I hadn't even known existed until the day it was gone. But even so my last week in the city was heartbreaking in a way that I was wholly unprepared for, and now that I'm sitting in a cafe a few thousand miles away writing this, something feels missing. More than just the comfort of the familiar, there's a certain emptiness where the knowledge of the city as home - as mine, insofar as a city like New York can ever belong to someone - used to sit.
You'll know that I've done my fair share of leaving already. But through four cities and nine years, this is the first time I've felt like mourning for the life I left behind. All this to say, I guess, that the past three years have exceeded my wildest expectations -- I've learnt so much about life and about myself, and grown (I think) in immeasurable ways. Most of all, I've had the best time doing it. Each one of you has made my experience - and my life - richer, and I'm certain that I haven't adequately expressed that to you, at least not in so many words. So -- thank you. For your friendship. For being who you are. For putting up with me and making me a better person in the process.
I hope our paths cross again sometime soon, but in the meantime, please do keep in touch. I'll miss you all very very much.
With all my love and gratitude,