Nostalgic But Not Regretful (edited)

The last apartment I lived in was the first place that ever truly felt like home.

It took 21 years -and a year and a half on a waitlist- but when I finally moved in, it was worth every second of waiting.

The apartment was technically still under construction and far from perfect, but to me, it was a haven.
There was room to garden outside, a spacious walk-in shower, a kitchen with a full-sized pantry, and -perhaps best of all- my neighbor shared a wall but not the noise, since she was hard of hearing. The thin walls and a love for loud music? No issue.

There were so many great things about that place. I had surprisingly generous storage space for a one-bedroom. It was nestled on the outskirts of town, which was perfect for stargazing and regular wildlife sightings. The property managers gave me creative freedom with my garden as long as it didn’t look like a junkyard. Which I tested in depth

The windows were huge and full of light, ideal for growing plants and for my cats to perch in and watch the world go by. I lived close to my family, so we spent most Friday nights together. And even the neighbors (the ones who didn’t actually live on the property) would regularly drop off garden extras, baked goods, and the occasional surprise casserole. The grounds were quiet, and management did their best to keep things safe and peaceful by removing felonious individuals.

All utilities were included with the rent, and when the time came to add internet, the company ran fiber optic wiring. I had the fastest upload/download speeds around. My home always smelled incredible: warm bread, home-cooked meals, and coffee in the air. Sage, incense, and candles burned often. In spring, fruit and tea permeated the air, and in the summer, there were lots of flowers and smudges of soil here and there. Autumn brought simmer pots and pumpkin spice, while winter smelled of pine, mint, gingerbread, and rich, buttery sweets. Everyone who walked through the door would smile, taking a deep breath like they’d stepped into comfort itself.

Living an introverted life there felt so natural. My days were simple but full—working, reading, diving into my hobbies, playing games, watching late-night movies, tending to my garden, and curling up with my cats while podcasts played softly in the background. It was quiet, modest, and deeply comforting. Just me and my two cats in our little world. Those five years were gentle, healing, and honestly? Amazing.

That said, I won’t sugarcoat it—there were plenty of issues too: 

• I had to buy my own window A/C units and pay extra just to run them.
• The kitchen sink and shower drain clogged weekly, like it was a sport.
• Nosy neighbors who lived on the property constantly reported me for the most bizarre reasons (once, they accused me of prostitution when I was actually mentoring minors—talk about wild imagination XD).
• The heater had a dramatic streak and would stop working any time it got below 20°F.
• Fuses blew constantly, like the place had beef with multitasking.
• The windows leaked like a sieve, so I had to plastic wrap them in the winter and wage war against the dust they let in.
• Porch pirates were bold enough to steal packages, including my medication, and multiple Etsy and Bath & Body Works orders mysteriously vanished.

And yet, despite it all, I loved that place. It wasn’t just shelter, it was mine. I found joy in the little things and peace in the quiet. A space where I could breathe, heal, and exist without apology.

It was imperfect, but it held me during some of the most important years of my life.

Saying all this does not mean I regret what I chose

Moving to this bustling college city has its benefits. My health is slowly getting better now that I have access to better healthcare. Food is more affordable because there is more than one chain grocery (and the Farmers Market is very diverse and affordable!). We even have thrift stores <3

Our new apartment is quite the upgrade and is nicer than the privately owned apartments in the same price range

• Central air and heat that we control
• Top floor access
• Two bathrooms and bedrooms
• In-unit washer and dryer
• The kitchen came with a microwave, dishwasher, and garbage disposal
• A balcony with an outdoor storage closet
• A small gym on the grounds and a communal propane grill

Living with a partner is always an adjustment, but it’s been a welcome one. We moved in together two years ago, and life’s been a bit chaotic ever since. Not long after we got our first apartment, my health took a sharp turn. I ended up needing several major and minor surgeries. It’s hard letting someone help you when you’ve spent so long being independent, but he was there. Every step of the way. And let’s just say, helping someone wipe their butt is a level of intimacy that bonds you real fast XD Through all of it, we’ve only grown closer. I didn’t realize how low my standards for love had been until he walked into my life and effortlessly cleared every hurdle. My bar was practically underground—yet somehow, people still tripped over it. He didn’t just step over it - he soared. And in doing so, helped me realize I wasn’t asking for too much, I just hadn't been taught to see my own worth.

With most people, I’ve always felt misunderstood. Seen through a warped lens as either daft or some manic pixie dream girl fantasy. But my partner? He sees me. Truly sees me. He embraces my intellect, celebrates my creativity, and meets me in deep, thoughtful conversation. He listens - really listens without judgment! Sometimes, he understands what I’m feeling before I even speak. Maybe it’s his brilliant pattern recognition, or maybe it’s the magic of three years growing together. Either way, his presence feels like home. He’s a diamond in the rough, someone too many people overlooked. But I saw him. And in choosing each other, we’ve created something rare and deeply cherished. Leaving my bubble of comfort feels like a small price to pay for something so grand.