Sunday, March 24, 2013

Will I ever get used to moving on?

They say that it is a privilege to have traveled a lot, especially at a young age. I think I fall into this 'privileged' category, having lived in three countries despite coming from a background where most people never move out of their hometowns. And I often think that by now, I should have reached a point where the idea of packing up and moving on should not be intimidating anymore. It should come naturally, but it doesn't. On the contrary, it makes me sad. I've realised that I'm a very clingy sort of person. I may not cling to people and relationships, but I cling to their memories. And how.
Today, at the last night of the annual university fest, I had all intentions of enjoying myself considering that it is my last semester here. But instead, all I could do was brood and think of times gone by and all the people who are soon going to be just memories in my mind, as soon as I move back home. What makes it worse is the friendships that have already ended, prematurely, without me having a clue why or how. Why did a three-day fest go by without so-called friends making any effort to talk to me, let alone hang out with me? Why was I often with people whom I have only recently begun to know? And why oh why did I so often feel like the loneliest person in the world, even though I know I am not?
The prospect of change messes with my head in the worst ways possible. And my over-emotional heart doesn't help matters. I hate endings. I hate moving on. I hate doubting the shelf life of friendships. I hate change. And I don't think I will ever get used to it all. I will never get used to moving on. It's the worst feeling in the world.