I went to see a new apartment tonight. Near Whitechapel, and just down from Shoreditch, I had high expectations.

The housemates seemed friendly. More than friendly. In some ways, they were just what I was looking for. The apartment wasn’t, it was like a somewhat grotty, boxy warehouse of a place which just happened to contain beds, bathrooms and furniture. Am I being too picky? But for over £700 I want something more than a dingy room. A set of dingy rooms.

But the people, they were so nice. The cute Aussie guy. The fashion girl. The other girl who looked disconcertingly like Taylor Swift. In a brief moment, I saw another life flash before my eyes. I saw myself as part of that group, the group of housemates I wanted. But I also knew the apartment itself was more of a hovel than I wanted. It was tempting, but I think I knew it wasn’t right, as much as I wanted to believe it was.

I like where I live, but the truth is I need to leave. I’m tired of living with people who are just so…negative. There’s only so much of that you can take before it starts to wear you down. People who are cynical about life. Tired about their ​career. Just tired of it all. I know they’re good people, but when you have it coming at you from 3 different directions, it wears​ you down.

As I try to metnally accept that Tom and I really are going to drift apart, that maybe the friendship could fade, I need to pursue my own happiness. I need to re-discover London for me. I need to find that magic about it again. The job. The flat. The friends. The lifestyle that makes the city life such an exciting sea to live in. I need to find it again. I need to re-capture that light of potential and oportunity I remembr when I first came. No job, no flat, no real friends. Everything was new. Everything was to play for.

And somewhere out there, it’s waiting for me again.


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