Coming home

The thought of returning to Singapore was nice. Back to where I came from, back to where I belong.

Unfortunately what is supposed to be my safe haven has turned into a place I so desperately try to get out of. Didn’t take me long to realize that it is some of those who were once in my life tainting my sacred home.

My plan was to leave Singapore so that I can take some time away to be alone and heal myself, ended up making the best out of any hiccups and brought back nice memories. Bittersweet actually. Jouri kept telling me to stop thinking about what if this is the last time, use that time and focus on enjoying the present – yeah, I forgot how hard goodbyes are for me, now imagine having to go through multiple. Every week I’m saying goodbye to someone. Oh it was sad but I got used to it. Kinda.

So nice. Everything (okay not everything but for the most part) was nice. No competition, no judgment, nothing but peace, love and support from every single person I spent time with during this trip. Immensely grateful.

I didn’t get to fully experience the luxury of being carefree while on holiday though, because I was apprehensive about the life back home. I was so close to extending my trip; things would be so different now if I do. I’d probably be happier, but for how long more?

I had to come back and face reality. I had to come back to deal with my responsibilities.

I was brought up to think that if you’re unemployed as a millennial and single, then you don’t have your shit together. Not as bad when you have savings but even so, eventually you’d go “oh shit, I think it’s time for me to find a job” because you can’t eat into your emergency fund. That would be irresponsible.

Man I love this country, this place is the perfect place to live the city life for a tiny Asian like me. I just can’t get pass the rotten people. Point is, I have a life here and Singapore is my home, so I came back.

Only to realize…

Singapore no longer feels like home to me.

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