i am at the end of a chapter. maybe the end of an entire book. the awkward bumps and fits that were me, settling into being a new yorker again? they’re pretty much over. i live here. i was born very nearby, i was raised very nearby. i am home.
i have learned some painful lessons since i have been here about friendship and relationships in general. i have had to let people go – new friends and old.
i never was good at letting go, because i thought it meant that i had failed somehow.
so i put up with passive aggressive behavior. unsupportive and jealous “friends,” and people treating me in ways i’ve never let myself be treated before in my life. and finally i reached a point where i realized i would either just shut up and deal with it…
so, things ending don’t necessarily mean failure to me anymore. it means i am finally confident enough to stick up for myself.