Goodbye, Perth

It’s weird to leave a place you’ve lived for 15+ years.  I moved internationally when I was younger, and even that was a huge adjustment.  It was strange to leave the friends I’d grown up with.  But I was younger.  I knew I’d meet kids through school, and I hadn’t yet hit puberty so I had that whole bonding-with-your-peers/teenage rebellion thing to go through.  In hindsight, it was an easy enough move, even if the adjustment time was still substantial.

But now I’ve left behind the friends I made in highschool.  The friends I really grew up with.  The friends I worked with, who grew into the friends who were there when I needed them most.  The friends I met out when I was drunk and partying, the friends who transcended that shallow social-scene and became people I could curl up on the porch with at three am talking about the most random, weird things.

I’m leaving behind the people who would absolutely be there, any time, any place, no questions asked.  I’m trading in a phone book full of numbers I could call if my car broke down, or if I was sad and lonely, or if I was bored on a Sunday afternoon.

I’ll treasure all the memories I made with these people.  Random midnight drives that turned into epic 3-hour-long expeditions to the middle of nowhere (Northam).  Curling up in a fluffy black rug under a purple blanket watching Mean Girls and drinking $5 wine.  My best friend, who became my best friend when she came up to me in grade 6 and said, shiftily, “Hey…you wanna buy a mouse?”

I’ll miss singing along to terrible cock rock songs in the car with the windows wound right down.  I’ll miss weekend-long parties and forgetting how to use my legs.  I’ll miss always having someone to go on an adventure with, no matter how dull the adventure might turn out to be (“Let’s go to the pet store!  And get bitten by a parrot!”).

I’ll miss having people who know me inside out, sometimes better than I know me, who can understand what I’m rambling about when I’ve taken my sleeping pills and am rolling around in my bed pretending to be a baby dinosaur.  I’ll miss feeling so loved and cared for – having such an amazing safety net to fall into.  It’s one of those things you don’t even realise (sadly) until you’re faced with the prospect of a life without it.

My last week in Perth was wonderful.  I got to catch up with almost (ALMOST!) everybody I wanted to see, drank some tea, drank some wine, ate some awesome food, and hugged people till my arms felt a little bit sore.  I went to the aquarium!  I saw excellent films with excellent people!  And best of all, I realised that my leaving would make a difference.  That people would miss me.  Because at heart, I’m just a horrible masochist and want other people to suffer.  And that, kids, is the true meaning of Christmas.

Look at these attractive people! I will miss you, Perth <3

1 Comment

  1. Emma
    Jul 19, 2012

    You are so right about how scary all of that is but the good news is it’s going to be a lot easier than it feels right now. That sounds harsh, as though you’ll just forget about everyone you care about over here but what I mean is kinda the opposite. After a little while you realise that those friendships are still there and still as strong even though you’re on the other side of the world (or in my case country),. It’s the nicest feeling in the world because you realise that these relationships can survive anything which means you’ll most likely have them for the rest of your life.

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