Four more weeks till I leave home to a foreign country.
There is a certain melancholic feeling to it, and it gets more potent at night. The volume of this feeling amplifies when the skies are dark and the nights are quiet, as the looming date gently strolls towards me.
Maybe one thing that makes this melancholic sentiment more overpowering is that my life, as of right now, is very fast paced. Lots of outings. Lots of meet-ups. Lots of dinners with people. I feel like there is a lack of time spent with my family, and I feel guilty that I do not spend enough time with them.
It’s like the distance between us is already growing, even though I have not parted with them yet, and this sneak peak of growing apart terrifies me. I have been living together with my family for my whole life. No matter the highs and lows, my family is always the constant. It is always the three of us. Now that I am about to spread my wings, I cower in fear for what might come next.