Tomorrow I move down to London. Tonight is my last ever night in this house, because my mum is due to move out in about 2 weeks, and so I will never return here. I've lived here since I was 7, and it's always been "home." No longer.
Yes, I moved out at 18 to go to university, but the terms were only 8 weeks long, and so I probably spent more time at home than away. It wasn't until 2009 that I properly left for London, and even then I returned after a year.
But now, when I leave tomorrow, it really will be for the last time. Tonight will be the last time I sit in my living room and watch TV, eat in my kitchen, sleep in my room. It really is the end of a chapter and I am in parts incredibly sad. But then I remind myself that a massively new part of my life is literally just beginning and I am right on the very cusp of it. Tomorrow and next week I will be meeting a hell of a lot of new people, and who knows who is going to be in it! (Love of my life? We'll see...)
But. Back to my house. I have some amazing memories that took place here, and I'll never be able to drive or walk past without stopping and looking and remembering. I lost my virginity here. Not the best memory in the world, admittedly. I had my amazing 21st Birthday Party here. All of my previously happy Christmases. I found out I got into medical school sat at my desk. I had secret house parties. I've had countless people to stay after nights out. I've had horrific arguments with my mother, and watched horrific arguments between my parents.
In short, I've grown up here. And now, it's time to leave.
