The bathroom stall was cold. The marble counter that bordered the window pane was colder. Fuck this is cheesy. It took me 30 minutes to get through security and to find a place that I felt secure enough to cry. Saying goodbye sucks.
I lived in Beijing, China for most my life. I was born in Manila, shipped to Guangzhou, then after three years marinating in what I barely remember as home, shipped to Beijing, fine not shipped, moved.
I then attended a very amazing international school that I consider one of my true homes. I have 2.
One is back in the Philippines with my extended family with the litter of cousins and uncles and aunts and whatever else kind of label you give people that share some kind of blood relation to you.
The other is the school. I’ve moved at least 10 times since coming to Beijing, but the school was always the same... except for the part where the school itself relocated but I don’t count that.
I’ve always been the one to watch people leave, never the one to leave others. Until this day. I graduated, I got accepted, I was about to move out on my own for the first time in my life.
I was handling it well. My two younger sisters were crying, my mother was smiling, and my grandmother was quiet. Guess she was sad that her favorite grandchild was leaving (yeah that’s right other siblings, I’m the favorite here).
My older sister and father, however, were laughing and teasing me on my first move. Trying to get me to cry. I didn’t, yet.
So now I’m sitting on this marble counter looking out at a wall across from the bathroom window, reflecting on the cold temperature and thinking how cheesy it is for me to cry in an empty bathroom.
It’s never really the place that makes you sad. It’s the people. The memories you made. Letting go of having them so close is a comfort that you’ll never feel again. At least, not until you make new ones and meet new people.
Anyways, after a few weeks, I adjusted rather well. My parents say I adapt easily and make friends. I say I just accidentally have fun and stumble around and end up lucky.
By moving to another international and diverse school, it felt like I was right at home. The culture shock? There wasn’t any. Just some extra math to convert the currency and the weights (seriously, just go metric, the rest of the world has done it).
I made friends, I enjoyed classes, and I fell in love. In and out of love, let’s not talk about that.
What was great about the move was that every day was an adventure. Back home I knew every nook and cranny. Over here, I barely knew the place.
So I often got lost. Purposely might I add. It was a journey for me to learn and adapt and to make a new home for myself.
To sum up how I felt about the move, it was bitter-sweet but I wouldn’t change a thing. It was lit.
Fuck this is cheesy.
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