Somewhere between where I came from and where I’m going.

I left home nearly a decade ago,
carrying something I didn’t have language for yet.

First stop: the capital.

I told my mom it was just for my undergrad.
She wasn’t thrilled.
I promised I’d be back after graduating.

I wasn’t.

The capital was loud.
Fast.

I learned quickly.

I got good at reading the room.
Adjusting myself.
Becoming whatever it needed.

Just enough of myself to blend.
To be liked.
To not stand out in the wrong way.

I went home in the summers.
Long enough to remember.
Not long enough to reattach.

Present.
But limited.

I liked that rhythm.

Somewhere along the way,
my friends started loosening around me.

With me there, the rules relaxed.

I let them.

Then came the “just a few years” in finance.

Client dinners.
Shiny outfits.
Borrowed confidence.

From the outside, it held.

Inside, I wasn’t fully in my body.

Then the UK for my master’s.

New country.
Same pattern.

The likable international student.

Always slightly out of reach.
Even to myself.

I made real friends.
Real memories.

I got used to being a little lost.

After graduating,
I made new promises to my mom.

“Just one more year.”

I stayed.

For a decade.

Long enough to build something that looked like a life.

Jobs.
Routines.
Friends.

On paper, it held.

In real life,
I was still whispering English sentences under my breath
before speaking.

By the time I found the words,
the conversation had already moved on.

I moved jobs.
Often.

Trying to find something that fit.

It never quite did.

Then California.

Post-pandemic.
Post near-death.

Something started to peel.

The polished version of me stopped holding.

The upgrades slowed.

I chose to leave home.

So I told myself
I didn’t get to grieve it.

Until the missed weddings stacked up.

Until the babies I loved
were suddenly in primary school.

Until the group chats went quiet
and I realised
I hadn’t been in a family photo in years.

Eventually,
the check-ins stopped.

Some nights,
when everything goes quiet,

I notice it.

Nowhere feels like home.