The Friday before I moved away from London it was time for my leaving party. The amount of leaving parties I’ve been to and damned the person abandoning me and the best city in the world is outrageous. And now it was time for my own, and it was painful and felt far from real. Like the rest of the week I decided to ignore the fact that this was my going away party, and instead pretend that I was just getting drunk with my handsome boyfriend like all the other nights. Saboune had offered to have it at his house and when we arrived he even had pizzas ready for us. What a pal huh. We played vinyls and hung out from the open windows. Outside it was still summer and not a sign of winter in the in the air, just a friendly heat. Slowly my friends started to drop in, showering me with prosecco and hugs and pleads not to go. Lovisa was one of them. And also Bella. I was way too busy running around, letting people in, downing whiskey with babes I haven’t seen in ages and others I hang out with every single day, to take pictures. My lovely, wicked, brilliant babe Ornella was there of course and she even brought her new boy for me to meet for the first time.<3 It’s weird gathering all the people you love under the same roof and know that you won’t have them in your everyday life anymore. No buying coffees together between lectures, no taking turns predrinking at each others flats, no sharing links to hip hop nights you can go to together or no more Saturday brunch dates. It made me wonder again why the fuck I am going. The night came and Canadians fell in love with Swedes and there were fights about music, people made out in the beds and strangers did shots together. Even my uni mates showed up, and people I didn’t know, and suddenly we were about 30 people dancing around in spilled drinks. I ran around like a nutcase, trying to hug everybody at the same time, bring drunk and pleased and free. The best thing is that now that I am gone several of my friends who didn’t know each other before the party have started hanging out. <3 After too many hours and the neighbours coming over for the 3rd time to shut down the party we figured it was time to take the party elsewhere but first we started a little tropical street party. Jimmy and Katta. Heading over the dark streets of Dalston, picking up £1-beer cans and we casually crashed Amel’s house. The word spread and from all over people dropped in and filled the rooms, spilling out on the street outside and sitting on every step in the stairs. Our Scottish goddess Amel. Some of us escaped upstairs to catch up and drink whiskey in bed and gossip. Jared. I don’t know what happened but all of a sudden the house was filled with strangers and it was way too late. We helped Amel shove all the lovebirds out the house and outside a fried chicken shop, filled with tears I hugged all my friends goodbye one last time.