I hadn’t actually decided to move this month. I’d been thinking about it—my lease was up and I’d already extended it by a few months—but work got busy in a way I hadn’t expected, and I was getting home around nine almost every night. So I figured I’d wait until this month was over. The life changes I mentioned putting on hold in earlier posts were about this too. Then the landlord I’d spoken with before suddenly got in touch. There happened to be a one-week gap between the old tenant moving out and my next rent payment, so the two leases could line up almost seamlessly. Everything about it felt just right, so I made a quick decision: move this month after all. It was something I’d been meaning to do anyway. So I went to look at places that morning.
I also looked at other buildings nearby. It was a last-minute decision, but somehow I managed to book them all. The new place is very close to where I live now, my apartment-hunting experience from a year ago still applied, and I still occasionally scrolled through rental posts nearby, so there wasn’t much friction. I ran through 'this one won’t work,' 'this one isn’t worth it,' and 'this one is a steal' very quickly. It probably looked careless, but honestly I don’t think doubling the time would have produced a better result. In the end I chose the seamless one. The building is much newer. I quickly contacted the landlord, bought moving boxes, and even the packing tools and cleaning supplies from my last move were still usable. Once the landlord confirmed, it was settled.
The new place—though I haven’t moved in yet—will be much smaller than this one. Some of the furniture I bought before may not all fit. But the bathroom and shower will be more comfortable, and daily convenience and the immediate surroundings will be better than before. It’s also more expensive. Hmm… I’ve been trying to stay level-headed about that. I’m not an extravagant or self-indulgent person, and making myself a little more comfortable within what I can afford should be okay, right?
What’s strange is that this move feels much more anxious and sad than either the first move—when I fled into my first place—or the slower, more planned move into this one.
One reason is timing. I have about half a month to prepare, but the days I can actually move fall in the last week of the month, and of course… I bought a ticket to see a show that Saturday. I only discovered this major problem after going through my calendar. If I go to the show, I’ll have to move in an extremely tight window. Otherwise I’ll have to sell the ticket.
The long backstory of the ticket—skip if you’re not interested…
The ticket has quite a history. I bought it back in April. I was supposed to have seen the show last weekend, but because an actor had a cold, only the first performance that weekend went ahead; the remaining four were all canceled.
The cancellation was announced eighty minutes before curtain. By then I was already on a subway ride that took thirty stops and about two hours each way, and I was deep in the web novel The King’s Avatar on the train, so I completely missed the cancellation notice. I arrived at the theater happily, even picked up the ticket, and then suddenly got the thunderbolt: the show was canceled. Then I took the same thirty-stop, two-hour subway ride home. After I got home I soon saw an announcement that the show would be rescheduled to January 2026. But because of how painful work was, and the pain of spending four hours on the train for nothing, I felt I absolutely had to see it this month. So I bought another ticket for the end of this month, in another city—on the very day that would have been most convenient for moving.
Besides that, there’s another reason. I was talking with a friend today and once again realized how expensive it is to live alone. Living alone is expensive, moving alone is a hassle, and there’s only one person’s share of time and strength, so time can only be juggled within a very limited range. As I write this I’m already trying hard to ignore a certain sour ache. It would be one thing if this were my first move, but it isn’t my first move or my first time living alone. It’s not that I suddenly want to act spoiled—I don’t even want to make a fuss about it! But—sigh—by this point in writing, after all the twists and turns, I do feel a little like wanting to be coddled.
But I’m also very clear that I picked this road myself. What kind of personality you have, what kind of person you are, determines what kind of life you get. Probably because I have a hard personality, I’ve always made hard choices. I’m the one who made them, so why should loneliness be such a surprise? What matters most here? That I’m the one who made the choice I found more acceptable. So how can I be unbalanced by the losses that choice brings? I made the choice, so there’s no reason to suddenly start crying about it now. (No, I didn’t actually cry.)
(Also, I did see E'e yesterday! It was a very happy day because of the company; the soft feeling still lingers, so it seems normal to be a little weaker today.)
Looking now at what I wrote two years ago when I first lived alone, and a year ago when I apartment-hunted and moved, I think, That was a tough woman. Being this sentimental now might mean I’ve gotten soft. I can understand the change, though. When I first lived alone and when I last moved, I was going in and out of a very toxic workplace. So I was hard all over, and a lot of things didn’t register with me. That hardness and energy helped me at various stages of life, but that warrior-like quality doesn’t stay in me for long. This move comes after a very calm and regular year. If my mindset hadn’t changed at all, if I were still that invulnerable, that would actually be scary… But, but I think being too soft still won’t do.
What matters most here? The neighborhood isn’t actually changing; the straight-line distance between the two places is only five hundred meters. It’s just that getting in and out will be more convenient. What I want is for the places I pass every day to be more comfortable, for the things I often do and the places I often go to be more convenient and on the way, and the park is much closer. That’s almost exactly why I decided to move. But what matters most? I had already thought I wanted to move, and then I decided to move. It’s something I settled myself. I chose the time and the place, and now I’m going to do it, and I will definitely finish it. So in half a month I will definitely be showering, sleeping, and using my computer in the new place. That is certain, and it matters. So that’s that.
Still, as with any post before this, this frequent record-keeping is so that in the future I can trace my own thoughts. And what I still can’t lose is this: once a choice is made, I have to step forward firmly.
(Even though this began as a post written from anxiety and ache, by the end I suddenly felt full of fight again… nothing but a body of stubborn energy jpg.)
(Also, whenever I feel weak, I want to listen to My Little Airport’s '今宵多珍重': 'Remember, the door to life is opened with your own two hands.')