I don't like you. I don't like your smell. I don't like your hallway. I don't like your loo. I don't like your walls. I don't like your entrance.
I know you're really pretty. I know you're beautifully decorated. I know you're the nicest flat we've ever lived in. I know you're in a lovely location, with a lawn and a carpark.
I appreciate how generous your owner is. I appreciate her kindness and flexibility. I appreciate her willingness to let us live here for less than the rent market dictated.
I thought you were perfect. I thought you would be our happy home for many years. I thought we'd make amazing memories in you. I thought we'd be friends for a long time. I thought I could imagine us here for a whole lot longer.
But the thing is flat, I don't like you.
I remember the time we moved in and hated your second room. I remember thinking I hate you second room, you're supposed to be for our baby but we've miscarried twice and I wonder if you'll ever be needed. I remember when my pregnant sister in law came to stay and how much it hurt. I remember wondering if I'd be able to get out of bed in the morning because I felt so low. I remember dragging myself to work on the tube for weeks. I remember so many pregnancy tests. I remember the positive one. I remember the fear. I remember the pain. I remember the cramps. I remember the bleeding. I remember the crying.
I still think of the sickness, the staring down the loo, the silly seat that doesn't stay up. I still think of the time I would put bananas outside the front door because I couldn't cope with the smell. I still think of the time I thought I would pass out while hubs was in the shower. I still think of the time I fainted in the bedroom, under the table, in the lounge. I still think of the terror before each hospital trip. I still think of the sleepless nights and the agony of pregnancy.
I picture myself alone in the lounge without Skittle. I picture myself sobbing while I was too sick to visit NICU for long. I picture myself expressing night after night after night. I picture myself trying to nest when I'd missed the nesting phase. I picture myself home with Skittle and hubs struggling more and more and more. I picture myself isolated, too scared to leave the house, too afraid to tell anyone how I felt. I picture myself depressed and self harming. I picture myself blank and failing.
So I know you're great flat. I know you are lovely and very pretty. I know you were our first home as a family of 3. I know we will always look back on you with an odd fondness.
But flat, I just don't like you. Don't take it personally. It's just I'm not going to miss you. It's not you, it's me. Maybe one day we'll meet again, we'll pay you a visit and reflect on our time here in a different light, but until then I can't wait to go our separate ways.
All the best for the future,
Your tenant x