I can feel this narcolepsy slide into another nightmare

I have grown up in this same, small, cosy town for eighteen years.

People my age who move here usually can't comprehend what it is like to have been here your whole life, they usually can't stand it.
But everyone I know who went to kindergarten and primary with me, who has spent the same amount of time here, doesn't want to leave.

I often have mornings where I wake up and just realise how lucky I am to be in this town.

I first learned to ride a bike here, just inside the school one day. I remember I was embarassed because I was eight or so, (okay, maybe I was even nine. Okay, maybe I was seven, I really don't remember now,) and I still had training wheels on my bike. We'd had some bike training thing with Constable Eric at school during the day, and Myles had teased me. So after school, Mum and Dad took me (actually, maybe I was even younger than that,) down to the school grounds, took my training wheels off, and I got on straight away and rode. Just like that. No teaching required.

I remember my first crush went to this primary school, when I was five. I only liked him because I thought he was cute, and he was older, in the 'top school' even, and my sister's brother was friends with him and somehow found out, so he'd say things that made me awkward and red and embarassed.

I remember going for my first real run here a few years back now, and being so proud that I ran all the way to the time ball and back without stopping. I ended up shaving seven minutes off that 3.5 kilometre run when I was at my fittest. Little did I know this was the beginning of an obsession, then an awesome experience in a multisport team, then a devastating injury that helped me to learn a lot of other things.

I started training my little football team here at the beginning of this year, and saw them improve and do an all round awesome job. The sunny afternoons at the Grassy here and the cold mornings at our games made it worth the fact that I had to sacrifice playing football to be able to teach them football.

I spent many summers with my dear friend Isabella swimming at Corsair Bay, collecting sea snails and putting them in one of the rock pools as our little pets until we left. I remember eating raw carrots with her and being bunnies down the side of the bank across from her house.

I made some of the most amazing friends here, and I know they will agree with me when I saw that some of the best people in the world are here. Friends that are always there, friends that really care, and friends that actually last.

There is just something about Lyttelton.
You can't quite put your finger on it.

There is an amazing sense of community here, and after the earthquake we realised that even more. Seven in the morning, and people had already been out on the streets for hours talking, getting water to people who didn't have it, checking on each other and just generally helping out.

And I know that I am going to cry so much when I have to leave.

I cried for about two hours straight when I left Tahiti after just a month there, and then I cried some more when I arrived home.

I simply cannot imagine not living here.

I can't imagine not knowing every second person I pass on the street, no matter what age they are.

I can't imagine feeling like I'm not a huge part of something.

I cannot fathom how I'm going to cope living without some of the people I love most in the world for five years.

I don't like that things will change while I'm gone, and I won't be able to change with them.

I'm so absolutely terrified of returning and being a stranger in my own home.

I'm even more terrified that the five years won't be worth it.

That I'll give up people, places, activities I love, only to come back and decide that it wasn't worth it.

So I'm just trying not to think about it all.
I'm trying not to dwell on the fact that the day after I accepted my place at Otago, I thought, "This really isn't me."
I'm trying to remember that my head has told me to do things in the past that my heart has disagreed with, and they have worked out.

Or maybe it was my heart talking after all.