Usually when I go on long extended trips (or move to new continents) there is pomp and circumstance involved. Lots of telling, lots of talking, lots of last drinks, parties, reminiscing and well wishes. My friends and I would head to a bevy of pubs. We'd huddle outside the doors, smoke curling from our lips, gin coursing through our blood, bawdy laughter and promises to keep in touch.
Not so this time. Although most of my friends likely know of my plans I've kept it slightly below radar. I've not discussed it at any real length unless asked, I didn't plan any dinners, didn't promise any last drinks. To be completely honest I want to spend one last night in my fancy bed, watching Parks and Recreation, snuggling my dog Elliott, and eating steak.
^^That's my dog Elliott. He is quite possibly the best dog that has ever existed. Seriously though.
In a way I almost feel like I'm escaping. Running off to be by myself for a while. I need to get away from the city and the person I've become while living here. The level of dissonance between who I know I am at my best, and who I mutate into on the metro is frightening. Tomorrow is my last day in Paris. I wish I could say I was sad to see her go, but I've never been happier to leave a city behind.