Recently, my mom decided that we'll have to leave this apartment that we're staying in to go "home". It was Bar month when she declared that so I did not pay too much attention until she asked me to pack my things the second Monday after the last Sunday of the Bar exams. Initially, I was in a quandary as to what must be difficult. Was it the packing or the thought of leaving? It was too damn hard. It was painful that I had to cry (and tell you it wasn't your moviel-like crying. It was your ugly crying. Really.) Until I started putting my law books in the boxes. I realized it was the whole idea of leaving. See, I never knew any other home for 27 years except this apartment. Yes, we do own the house there in Cavite, but I never lived there. I sleep there but I never actually lived there. This apartment was my home. This is where I grew up. This is where my childhood memories are made. This is where my heart will always be.
I would always complain how noisy my neighbors are or how easy the streets would get flooded with a few minutes of hard rain when in fact the whole Manila is dry. I never thought (or appreciate) how accessible my place is to any point of Manila. I forgot how almost all my friends hung out here after classes or have spontaneous overnights. I never thought how much this place is a part of me.
(Boo, this is getting to melodramatic. Forgive me, people)
Good byes aren't for me. I am not good at it. Always. I hope I'll learn to settle in my new house...then maybe later, I can find my own home. Somewhere, I can really call mine. :) Then, maybe then, it'll be less difficult.
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