Just spent the whole day packing things into storage and then things into luggage and all the busyness coupled with the immediacy of just coming back from Spain and Portugal has left me with little to no capacity or time to truly think and lament about the fact that it’s my last night here in Manchester before the summer. I’m going home to Malaysia tomorrow. It’s finally happening.
Despite all my complaints, there is no denying that I’m going to miss my tiny blue room in Weston. It’s…tiny, but it’s been somewhere I can call a shelter, a home, for the past nine months. I’ve stripped my walls bare of posters and photos and postcards, things I treasure and have put on display to make this room, a room that has changed owners annually for years, mine, and it feel so weird and out of place to see this room empty again, just like how it was when I first moved in. Every little sound I make generates echoes now. What was previously a crowded city where you couldn’t walk down a street without bumping into at least one person that you know feels incredibly barren right now, with the few exceptions of me and my friends who are also flying off tomorrow. It’s all happening. Everything feels so overwhelming, now that my first year is actually already over and I’m going home, after nine months. I’m not without emotion, but I feel like I’m feeling too little for an event of a scale this grand. Objectively I’m making a mountain out of a molehill I know, but that’s always the case and I feel unnerved when I’m not “feeling enough” anyway.
Well. See you in a bit, Manchester, and see you soon, Malaysia.