I felt pain and nostalgia moving out of my first apartment. Maybe because it was too early in the morning. I hadn't slept well the night before. My skin was dry and my eyes were partial to staying shut. I didn't like living here. It wasn't ideal but it was home. I had spent a month alone while my boyfriend at the time went on vacation with their family. I lived off canned soup and fell into a depression as I binged Breaking Bad. The sun rising shed a pink hue. I thought it was beautiful.
Looking back, it was probably my lowest point. Later I would move into a new apartment where I would spend my time with people I loved. From there, I would have to leave as my relationship crumbled. I thought that was my lowest point.
Conversely, it was the best thing to ever happen to me. I felt in control of my life.
Things are a lot better.
Moving Out