This is the city I've lived in all my life. I know nothing for sure, out of this city. I know no one out of this city. I have no one out there I can call my own. Or even someone I know well.
I want out of this city. This city chokes me. This city has nothing more to offer. I'm bored of this place.
This city is where I grew up, where all my memories are concentrated. It's where I made friends, fell in love, became a writer, laughed, cried and did everything else that I'm going to look back at, in one of those visions that people say they have when they are older. This place is all I will remember.
There is no adventure here. I can randomly start walking blindfolded, and then look around after taking off the blindfold, and know exactly where I am. There is no place left unseen.
I can never get lost in this city. This city is the haven that people look for, where I could be comfortable roaming around in my pyjamas.
Getting out of this city will be like a breath of fresh air. Something new to inspire is waiting for me. New weather. New seasons. A new life.
The winds of this city are familiar. I'm used to the heat on my skin, that I don't even get tanned with. I'm used to the smells, the fumes, the sandy breeze.
I look out of the window, eyes glazed with tears, at the aeroplanes near the one I was seated in. As the plane takes off, I see all I've ever known, being left behind. I feel ungrateful. I feel relieved. I'm happy. I'm sad.
I'm gone.