Boxes sat in stacks, the room stripped bare like a shell. I took a last look of the room, its luscious wallpaper and soft carpet was the only thing staying behind now. My hand swept over it as I remembered how much I begged to have my room purple. My eyes brimmed with tears, this wasn't home anymore. One by one, everything that defined a house to be a home was packed up. But I still couldn't believe I would never get up and see the same street; instead I have to go away. Seeing your face brim with tears installed more fear inside me. We use to be inseparable, not one without the other. I place my hand against the car window, the last gesture of a goodbye. The scenery behind the glass, flickered and changed to something I couldn't recognised, and I felt lost for miles. It was when we reached the new shell that I knew there was no going back.

It's been years now since I felt that raw and gnawing sense of being stranded. But if I could rewrite the past, there'd be one thing I'd like to do, I'd like to keep in touch with those I left behind. I never stuck to that like I hoped and that will always make me feel guilty because now we've drifted to far apart that we barely know each other anymore. That is my only regret. Because when I was lost, people found me. I may be far from what I was used to and I still miss it. But this is home now.