I’d forgotten how much I hated these plain white walls at the beginning, like an abyss of fear of the unknown and of what was to come. It was scary.
As time went on, I came to love these plain white walls. They became a chance for opportunity, a chance for me to finally choose my path. I was going to decorate them in the way that I wish. I was going to make them mine. I was going to cover them in the person that I would eventually become.
At this point, I have one hour until I move out of this mini studio that I had come to call home over these past 7 and a half months.
The beginning was difficult and awkward. I had never lived alone before. How do you do that? Having had roommates/family living in the same place all my life, I had no idea what living alone would be like. I feared getting lonely. I feared not being able to manage.
Now, I’m sad. I feel a slight ache in my heart because it is here, in this tiny apartment with it’s plain white walls that I came to learn how to do that. I came to learn how to be alone. I came to learn how to become more independent and how to push myself to become more responsible and more of an adult. It is here that I learned how to better take care of myself, because when you live alone, nobody is going to help take care of you when you are sick or when you’re having an emotional melt down. You have me, myself, and I.
This place was also my refuge when I became overwhelmed by culture shock, depression, and frustration. It was my comfort. It was my friend.
In the beginning, the different parts that were broken aggravated me. How was I suppose to live in such a dump? Turns out that the brokenness made it more comfortable. The quirks came to grow on me. The quirks made it unique and special to me. Plus, knowing how my life tends to go, I don’t think I would’ve grown to love this place as much if it didn’t have any quirks. It also wasn’t so bad.
This place signifies the adventure that I came to have. This place signifies finally learning to be me and to pursue my dreams, adhering only to myself. I set the bar. I set the expectations.
It told me to never give up and to keep trying, even when my neighbors decided to blast dub step music at 2 am or to rev their scooter engine in the court yard for about 2 to 3 minutes straight almost every other day. I kept pushing.
This place was the little nest that I came home to after I was done flying around different European countries. After all, it appears as though I need somewhere to go back to after having all of my adventures.
This place was not glorious. This place was not beautiful. Sometimes, this place wasn’t even practical, especially when on the coldest and snowiest day in Laval the radiator stopped working.
This place was not lovely. This place was not ideal. This place was not for the long term, but alas, this place was mine.
This was my home. This was my place, at least here in Laval, at least just for a little bit, and I will always be thankful for this little crappy apartment.