Leaving Places and Keeping People
It’s the last day of July, and this marks my fourth and final blog post for the month. The last time I checked, I had 53 days left before I leave this place—but who's counting? (Me. I’m counting. Obsessively.) This whole situation reminds me of something my mum always says: “Time waits for no one.” And wow, she was not kidding. I think it’ll take me my entire life to master the art of meeting new people and then gracefully letting them go. Spoiler alert: I’m failing the "graceful" part. I will probably never get used to this transition. Ever. I’ve accepted that. Counting down the days is such a weird emotional cocktail. One part excitement— Yay, new adventure! —and one part existential dread— Oh no, I have to say goodbye to everything and everyone I love here. I mean, the people! The atmosphere! The lifestyle! Even the random gecko that occasionally invades my room has grown on me. Maybe that’s why so many people choose stable jobs and stay in one place forever—becau...
