I usually spend time thinking about what to blog, simply because I don't want to write out an incoherent post. But sometimes, too much thinking makes the post seem too structured, too impersonal. And that's not how I'd like to write. Often times I find myself typing out a paragraph before hitting the CTRL+A+Delete combination.
So, I really don't know what this post is going to be about. Or what I'm even trying to convey. I only know that I need an outlet at this very moment. Because it hurts. It hurts to leave Boston and the States. It hurts to leave BC. It hurts the most, to leave behind the people I've met here. I know I've blogged about this before, about the pain of leaving, but the feeling just isn't going away. I know I can come back one day, but maybe what hurts the most is the idea that people might just forget me, forget who I am, and who I am to them. That is without a doubt, one of my biggest fears and insecurities. I don't want to return to Boston one day, only to be greeted with people who don't remember who I am. The people whom I've come to love and be personal with; people whom I've had the privilege of working with. People. Just every single one of them. It was a good decision to spend my last 2 weeks in Boston in solitude, without spending much time with anyone. And I thought I did well in that, till a few days ago, when I met up with the Malaysians, with different people from Symphony and BC. Honestly, a big part of me just wishes to scream out loud- to tell people that I don't want to see them before I leave, because that makes leaving so much more difficult. It makes it more painful. And I'm trying to shield myself from the pain. But I'm not strong enough to decline invitations to have a last supper together. And during those moments, the conversations that I have with these people, and the amount of love and care that they show me gives me a sense of security in my relationship with them. That even if I were to come back only 10 years later, they'd still remember me, and that they'd still love me like they did. That our friendship mattered enough to them; that I mattered enough. I know people change. I changed too. Our friendship might change as well. But as long as the friendship hasn't gone stale, or forgotten, that's good enough for me. These days, it seems that the only thing for me to do to temporarily relieve myself of the pain is to cry. But it hurts, crying alone. I would like someone to hug me, to squeeze my shoulder. Tell me it's okay. And to assure me that I'll be back, and that they're looking forward to that day. Even if it's a lie, it would soothe the pain. Just like what Band Aid does when placed on a wound. It covers it, makes the wound feel a little better, but ultimately the healing comes from within. And the healing comes with time. I'm also scared of going home. There are just too many things going on at the same time- it gets overwhelming. I'm afraid of returning to Malaysia, returning to a culture I'd probably grow to dislike, returning to a place, a country that I can't bring myself to call home. Returning to a home that doesn't even feel like home. Afraid of being looked in the eye and hearing the words, "You've changed so much. What happened to the old you? I miss that". Afraid of moving back into my parent's house, living with them, and not having the freedom to live life independently. Afraid of not being able to 'fit in' with Malaysian-ness. I sound judgmental. I probably am. It's like I'm not giving life back home a chance. And maybe I shouldn't have met you. There are no words to describe the web of emotions that I'm feeling. And I'm too tired to even try. I only have a day left in this city that I love. I don't even want to think about it.