love was just a dream

Halifax is better and more beautiful than I remebered. There's something about this city that feels so strangely like home. It's the most eerie thing in the world to walk around and feel like you've done this before. I get wicked deja vu here.

Moving here was the best thing I could have done, just for my own well being. Water has always relaxed me but being by the ocean everyday is putting a whole new spin on my life. Everywhere you go here, you can see the Atlantic. It's bordering downtown, it's beisde me on my way to work, and if I listen closely enough I can hear the waves crashing through my window. The air has the distinct scent of sea--salty, muggy and uplifting. Everday on my walk to work I just breathe in deep and close my eyes. I'm so happy to be here. The scenery, the people, the ocean--this is what I had to do.

And Halifax isn't done with me, either. The chills I get that rattle my spine every once in awhile let me know that I'm here for more reasons other than my sheer desire to flee Montreal. There's a plan and rather than bust my brain trying to figure out when and where and how, I'm sitting back and watching it unfold. I've always had issues with the looming idea of fate and destiny, I've always wanted things to happen my way under my terms. But I'm learning to let go and enjoy the ride, learning to let the world and the scheme open up in front of me. Forgetting why and how and why not. Who cares, really? The whole point of fate is that it really doesn't care who you are. You're gonna get rocked anyway.

I love it here. I do. Nova Scotia owns a large part of my soul, and I'm excited for the journey. I'll figure these feelings out eventually--the shivers, the deja vu, the awareness. But I'll figure them out when they're good and ready to be discovered.

can we pretend

"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

In a lot of ways, maybe I'm getting out of Montreal for the summer as a form of self punishment and self preservation at the same time.

I'm the flight type. I always believe that sooner or later, people leave. The people that you care about and keep close to you are going to leave. I live my life so that I'm always the one walking away first, to save myself the pain of being the one left behind.

When I get too comfortable and start to settle in too much, I force myself to leave everything behind and walk away from it, before somebody can do it to me.

I'm supposed to be this self sufficient, independent girl who can walk away from anything, anyone, any time. But in the past year I've developed these attachments and roots--the kind that I swore I'd never have. They caught me by surprise. Crept up on me, attaching themselves fiber by fiber and by the time I realized it, it was too late. They had a hold on me.

Everything that I have in my life I've had to fight for. Really fight for. Things were getting too settled, too calm here. I was content living in the basement section of my parents' house, with my own little routine and way of life. Go to work an easy job, get a big pay check, buy lots of cool things. Rinse, repeat. It was time to burst the bubble.

6 years ago I was in a bad place. A place bad enough that sometimes the clutches still reach up and grab me for days at a time, trying to pull me back in. The girl inside of me pulled me through that. She was strong, fearless, independent. She relied on nobody. That girl was strong.

I need to find her again.

I leave on Saturday, at 4AM. Half of me is so incredibly excited. The other half is wondering if that girl is still in there, or if she left, too.