I never really accepted that this would become my new reality. I hated my high school, but I fucking adored my friends. I think we all knew that deep down most people didn’t have a friend group like ours. Leaving high school was the most bittersweet moment of my entire life. Cause like, it was over, and things were never ever going to be the same again. My favourite people moved to Sydney, and Melbourne, and Cape Town, and North Queensland and bloody Monaco. I genuinely struggled with the idea of knowing getting us all back together at the same time was legitimately impossible. It’s weird, because I knew it would come to end, and I totally treasured it at the time, but I’m still sad it’s over. I’ve always had a hard time letting things go. I’m not used to not speaking to my friends daily, or weekly, or monthly even. It’s that lonely stage between high school and the next chapter where you’re really fucking confused and lost and flabbergasted. I feel like moth in a dark room clinging onto any piece of light I can see.
I love my hometown to death, and I think that’s part of the problem. It was the coolest place to grow up, a plateau behind the ocean in one of the safest communities in the country. We could roam around the streets at 2am alone without a care in the world. Or drive 30 minutes and be in the middle of city or in the sand. It’s a dope place, but living here stalls any personal progress. I’m leaving in January, and as much as it makes me sad, home will always be here. And the people that care about you will always stay in touch. Remember that.