Wandered down the river and poked around vintage shops I could never hope to afford and sat in Covent Garden with T watching the pigeons running in front of tourists. This city is so beautiful and so alive and the thought of leaving feels like ripping out my own heart, but I can’t stay. The last two years have left me a trembling, raw mess of anxiety and loneliness and uncertainty and I can’t stay here, though it hurts like hell to leave. I need to learn how to live, and I need to do that somewhere else.
apanoplyofsong said: (if you ever need to ramble through/ask questions about going off, please feel free to drop by my ask box. I know it’s different here, but still. :)