I know, this is pretty much a cliché, but clichés exist for a reason–they’re often a reflection of a reality that’s so ordinary that people stop thinking about it.
I’ve moved 11 times in the last 10 years, and I know I’m not quite settled yet. I love Vancouver, I love its majesty and the feeling that anything is possible here. I love how it makes me feel young and hip and part of a community.
Vancouver also has its issues: besides being so damn expensive, there’s also a hidden, cutthroat attitude to it. Here, you make it or you’re nobody.
Despite all of that, despite how much attraction I feel to Vancouver, Victoria is more synonymous with “home”. The main reason lies in my SO living there. I only really feel home with him; however crazy, social, amazing my life has become in Vancouver, not being with him makes it all seem… less relevant. Victoria was also my first home in BC and I will always feel more “at home” here.
I’ve been having these fantasies lately, fantasies of moving to a remote cabin somewhere in the Gulf Islands to write. With him. Let go of the need for fashionable clothes and a bus pass and eating in fancy restaurants. I just want to do what I love–writing–with the person I love most.