How you know it’s time to move on

“It’s not fair, you’re not even giving this city a chance.”

Someone said this to me recently, and I gave him a stern look.

Aside from how much I wanted to punch him in the face, how dare he judge based on so little he knew – let’s think about this logically for a second.

17 years.

How can you say 17 years is not enough of a chance.

17 years, nearly two fucking decades spent somewhere – is that not enough time, not enough chance?

It was useless explaining why and how, but oh god, did I realize a lot of things afterwards, and it’s bad.

  1. I’m so sick of this city that there’s no point of me being here (and yes, I do realize this is like a repeat of how 2012 went)
  2. No amount of convincing me this place is more than it is will get me to stay
  3. I realize it’s not even 3 months since I’ve been back and…I’m done. So fucking done. Being here is like being in jail.
  4. I will most likely take that job offer in Europe in September (fingerscrossed)
  5. If I don’t, I’ll most likely go somewhere else, perhaps a different city.

There needs to be an infusion of new to restart my engine. Something I actually can relate to and feel excited about.

That’s all.

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