Four months of delightful encounters and strange people. You gave me a life, far away from the safety cushions home offered. With memories drenched in happiness, I am going to keep them locked away right at the centre of my heart. And no, Alohomora won’t do the trick.
From being painfully homesick to finding friends who feel a lot like families do, you put meaning into the phrase “growing up.” I grew up. It’s been one semester and it already feels like a major life event. Thus, a letter. I planted my feet on your land hoping that you will help me take flight. You taught me that in life some stories are only meant to be felt and retelling them would be a crime. That one day, every wound heals. From friends who became strangers to strangers who now fit in my definition of ‘home.’ Thank you, for putting up with a 17-year-old who walked right into you and demanded your love, like a spoiled brat. With hours of last-minute studying and wasting life at the food court, you mischievously managed to mould a misfit.
I am dying to go back home. But today, as I sit in the airport waiting for a delayed flight. I know that in two months I will come running back to you. For I still have a lot more of this growing up thing to do. Let me skip the clichés and sum it up with, I have had days when tears streamed down my face and I wanted to be anywhere but here. And days when I have closed my eyes to thank whoever is up there because my life has never been this surreal and poetic.
So, while this might be me making a mountain out of a mole hole, this semester felt like a life event which needed to be addressed. Now, don’t start excepting these letters every time I leave you.
A moulded misfit.