In one part or another, today or tomorrow, we break through of the phase we've grown accustomed to. We move on, we evolve; we develop, we advance.
Changes occur as the natural progression of existence.
I realize that one day, I'll leave.
As I lay in my bed, I decided to mull over thoughts that I've kept consciously suppressed until now. Thoughts that have the capacity to bring on floods of reaction, each correlating to their subsequent emotion in the plethora that will soon manifest.
I asked myself, "What will I miss when I leave this country?"
What is it of my past, that will sustain my future, when my present ceases to be current?
Of course, my social-conditioned mind pressed on about 'should' things that are societal textbook answers to such a question.
I'll miss the food, my friends, the weather and of course my family.
No.
No, I don't. I won't miss the food.
I won't miss my friends.
I won't miss the weather.
As I pondered, I surprised myself with my heartlessness, for within this context, I had absolutely no display of emotion. The sadness, or even anxiety for loss, of any of these things, did not grip my heartstrings as tightly as it should have.
Just as I was debating the monstrosity of my psychological betrayal, I looked out my window and discovered a twinge of emotion.
It was as sudden, as it was refreshing.
And that's when it all hit me.
I won't miss the food. No.
But I'll miss the times when I was hungry and I ate. I'll miss the meals we had together, the tastes that congregated during each bite. I'll miss the texture, the sight, the smell.
In short, I'll miss my personal encounters. The little things that made up my experience. The ones that we overlook so easily, brief, but the most beautiful of all.
I'll miss the shaft of sunlight that filters through my room window on a sunny morning. I'll miss the cacophony of birdsong that never fails to perk up my spirits. I'll miss the peace, the hustle and bustle, the laughter and the work.
I'll miss the caring, the talks, the touch, the presence.
I'll miss the way the leaves rustle in my garden, the sensation of grass between my toes. I'll miss the drives and the walks, and comfort of knowing the stability of my safety zone.
I'll miss the love. More importantly, I'll miss their love.
So, no.
I don't miss Malaysian food, or weather, or my old school, or my friends.
No.
What I'll miss are,
the days they had with me;
And the time I had,
with them.
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