I only stayed in Toronto for two nights and half a day before picking up anchor again. Usually I don’t do this sort of thing as I tell myself I love being in the city but there’s been something very charming about detaching that part of my identity.
I’ve always said that I am city boy. When I was in Kingston at first, I was fiercely proud of my Toronto roots and I used to brag about the accomplishments of the city. What a glorious thing to have for myself, I thought of my Torontonian aspect. It coloured everything from my politics to the way I pronounced Toronto.
But, I’ve begun to question this love of mine. Not that I like the city any less, I mean I still grew up here and right now I plan on spending my life here, I’m finally back by the way.
It’s like I was deflecting each time I mentioned I was from here. That should mean something to everyone else I thought, surely it fill in whatever gaps there are in my personality. It must be said that I was basically without identity, without some healthy pride in myself, when I went to school.
I was so unsure of myself that I was taking chemistry, now I’m an English major through and through. Now I read the books I want, I watch the tv I like instead of the ones people talk about. This is what I mean by pride in yourself. It’s like a fulfilment of those things you lie in bed thinking of but tell yourself for one reason or another that it cannot be done, too expensive, too much of this and that.
Now that I’m back in the city, I’ve started this kind of living, this way of life. It has made me realize the things I was doing for other’s sake. Now that I do not provide for people to my own denegration, now that I look to myself and a select few for the motivation and worth I need, I’m a lot happier. Unfortunately, I hardly look to this glorious city much anymore.