Pretty soon, it'll be a month that I've lived in Toronto.
I know, I know... it's not really a big deal. But it's still fairly strange to me. Part of my brain is still convinced that this is an extended visit. Y'know, the kind where you pay rent, bring everything you own, and change your address.
The oddest thing of all, at least in my mind, is what it was like to actually go back home. Because in a matter of two weeks, it already stopped feeling like home. The dynamic has changed, and it's probable that I have too.
There are certain times where I feel completely at ease, and like I belong wherever I am. In St. Catharines, it's when I'm with my friends and we're all laughs, smiles, and genuine friendship. It's also sitting and having a normal conversation with my Mom or Dad. In Toronto, it's lying awake in bed before falling asleep, with my hand in my boyfriend's and talking in whispers. Or when I'm surrounded by the few people I know here and they treat me like they've known me forever.
Small things are the hugest to me.
I look forward to the day when I'll feel like this place is mine, this city is mine, and that this confusing whirlwind of an unexpected life is mine.