A love letter to my apartment.

Dear apartment 6D,

My therapist and I decided it would be a good idea to make a ritual out of leaving you. Yes, I’m leaving. After 5 years it is time for me to go. It’s okay, you’re allowed to be sad - I certainly am.

For the ritual, my plan is to write you a letter, express my gratitude, and honestly probably just release an ugly cry when I leave.

First, I want to thank you.

Thank you for holding space for me while I hurt, grew, laughed, healed, screamed, loved, and lived. You have been there for me for SO many important moments. Of course, I didn’t realize they were important until I sat here and reflected on it. But that’s how it goes doesn’t it?

You provided a safe space to be and learn who I am. My most formative years (my late twenties) were here. In 2019 when I moved in, I was scared to say what I really wanted and what I really felt. I thought I was too much, too sensitive, too existential. I was self conscious, not sure if my dreams could ever come true, and fearful. Oh so fearful.

I had so much to learn. And these were not easy lessons.

I definitely had my moments where I abused you, dear apartment - coming home too late and unwell, my dog having accidents on your beautiful floor, filling your garbage can with crap while your kitchen remained empty.

And for that, I apologize. But I know it’s not necessary - you love me unconditionally.

I came out of you the best version of myself yet. I’m okay with my imperfections, I’ve slowed down immensely, and I’m confident in my life decisions and choices even if others don’t agree - I’m still practicing all these but the foundation is strong.

Apartment, I want to say that I love you. I love you and your quirks because they’re all lessons.

Your loud banging radiators that get so hot I need to have the windows wide open in the dead of cold winter remind me that two things can be true at the same time.

Your fuse that blows during the summer if the AC and too many other appliances are on at once teaches me that I need to be aware of my limits so I don’t burn out.

The mourning doves that come to your fire escape year after year shows me that being solid and still creates an environment for love and life.

Your rooftop that legally I wasn’t supposed to hang out on but provided so many lovely memories proves that sometimes asking for forgiveness rather than permission is the way to go.

Your one burnt out light in the righthand corner encourages me that perfection is not needed for things to work.

I am now in my 30’s and ready for my next chapter. You will now welcome my younger cousin.

I hope you give her the same love, stability, and growth that you gave me.

My heart will always be marked by you.

With bittersweetness, gratitude, and so much love,

Sydne / February 2026