3 a.m, on my last night in Ottawa

So much has changed since...

You get used to certain little things:

Sneaking in late at night so I don't wake Brittany, Adam's car parked outside my house waiting to pick me up for movie night, to go look at seahorses or a night on the town, Adam Crossman singing Black, by Pearl Jam, when we've both had too much to drink. Perfect caesers at the Highlander, Arcade Fire on repeat at Zaphod's (until recently when it turned into a dance hall), stumbling home Wednesday evenings after a night of sweet potato fries, Tara Halloway and mini pitchers of Carlsberg at the Georgetown.

It's time to move on, and I know that. I've stayed in Ottawa an extra six months just to have fun, enjoy myself before I have to buckle down and get a job, and enter the "real world." That of course isn't enough to convince me that I've made the right decision. I've realized this past week just how kind people really are to me, and as cheesy as it sounds, I feel like I'm walking away from my family here. Kindness goes a long way: a goodbye party that I really wish I could remember more of (whoops, that was embarrassing!), gifts and cards and a number of nights out with a really incredible group of friends. I have been so spoiled in this city, and it truly is devistating to walk away.

It is impossible to believe that it has been more than four years since we all piled into Glengarry residence, from all across the country. Toga party, century club, Liquor Dome, the Highlander, Denny's breakfasts. Since then I had incredible experiences in the journalism program, a job that I actually grew to love more than I ever thought I would and a group of friends that I fear losing touch with. It's been a long road.

So long Ottawa, you've been unbelievably incredible to me for four years.