I have done it! I’ve moved out of my Palm Beach apartment and into Brandon’s one bedroom on the marina.
I packed up my things and moved them throughout the weekend. Little by little, my studio apartment on Seminole Avenue became empty. I looked around the apartment wondering what to take and what to leave. Since I’ve broken my lease early, I’m obviously not getting my deposit back which is fine since it was only $600.
I’ve moved so many times that it’s become so easy for me to get up and go. Ever since the Murray Hill model apartment experience, I’ve tried to just view apartments as places that I sleep. I was so sad when I had to leave my first apartment so no way in hell was I going to become attached again.
The sadness of leaving my little place set in as I stared at the lone mattress on the floor. I laid on it for the last time and thought of everything that had happened in my short but eventful 6 months there:
“Brandon told me he loved me in this bed after only 3 weeks together”
“Sean, Yaya, Warren, Brandon, and I laid on this bed talking about nonsense for hours”
“I adopted Basil in this apartment”
“Kira stayed with me here for a week and we became closer than ever”
“I mourned Bobby Heyward’s death on this bed while watching the funny videos we had made together”
“I CREATED THE RETIRED MODELS ON THIS BED”
It hit me. The sadness made me choke up. This is where it all began, I thought.
250 Seminole Ave, #10
Palm Beach, FL 33480
I began to smile thinking about the little Seminole Lodge and how it was the perfect representation of me: on the outside, it’s this tiny building that looks like it doesn’t belong on Palm Beach; On the inside, the tiny room held things that are very dear to my heart. There were boxes of Jimmy Choo’s next to a GED Study Prep book; My Prada Saffiano bag next to a bottle of Absolut Citron; my leather-bound journals where I cursed my life as a model piled underneath a blown up portrait of me when I was modeling; Photos of my travels and the people I met around the world taped to my walls so I wouldn’t feel so alone on this tiny South Florida island that was so far from them.
Here come the tears. I have begun to cry as I tap lightly on the keys of my Macbook Pro. I have felt everything in that tiny apartment: sadness over Bobby’s death and talking to S about it, excitement from the blog’s success, feeling loved by Brandon in a way that nobody else has ever loved me, nostalgia from being with Kira, etc.
As I stood to get into Brandon’s very packed car, I glanced one last time at my little place. It reminded me of leaving The Ex to be honest. It’s the feeling you get when you know it’s really goodbye. I’ll never step foot into this little place ever again and in a couple years, they will probably demolish it and build a new one since it’s so old.
I locked the door and got into Brandon’s very packed car. He sensed my uneasiness and asked if I was OK. I nodded and took a photo of the Lodge. B put his hand on my thigh and said, “Moving onto bigger and better things”.
It clicked. It’s the realization that Casey described in her “Blank Canvas” post. I giggled again thinking of another literary reference that fit my life: metaphor. My moving out of my tiny shack and into Brandon’s beautiful, one-bedroom apartment IS A FUCKING METAPHOR.
250 Seminole was me six months ago: someone that doesn’t look like she belongs on Palm Beach with my unbrushed hair and all-black apparel but is filled with exquisite taste, beautiful memories, and intricate ideas/projects that are beyond the typical South Floridian’s comprehension.
Our new place is Megan Kennedy 2.0. In the same way that I have learned to accept myself as I am, I have learned to accept living in Boynton Beach. The size isn’t as cramped so it’s easier to feel inspired. As I have shed my prissy thoughts about Boynton, I’ve finally noticed the beauty of Brandon’s place just as I have realized the beauty that I am now as Megan Kennedy The Blogger instead of Megan Kennedy The Model.
And the best part?
I get to sleep next to my biggest inspiration and the love of my life every night.
Cheers to finding me.
Also, shout out to B for tolerating the amount of space my clothes take up.