Living Abroad
It feels a bit strange, doesn't it? I'm halfway across the world, living abroad, and somehow it's sad. Not that I'm not having fun. I am. But there's this thought that I'm gonna miss this one day. Someday. These are gonna be old memories we look back on and laugh about all the stupid things we did. And the weirdest part, missing something while it's still happening. Like I'm already standing in the doorway of this moment, halfway in it and halfway outside of it, watching it become a story. I keep thinking about how close the future is. Not some far off one day, but the near future, next week, next month. The future that hasn't even been written yet. But somehow I'm nostalgic for it in a way. Maybe it's because I can feel the pages turning even when I'm trying to hold them still. Every new place, every new face, every small routine I'm building, I can already imagine the day it becomes a memory, and it makes me want to rush and slow down at the same time.