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Departure has always been relatively easy for me. It takes me a long while, a huge chunk of myself to be invested or to choose to invest.
Hall 1 wasn't family, it wasn't home. There was no sense of "i want to stay here for 7 days till the sun rises n the sun sets", no feeling of comfort and sanctuary when I fall asleep at night and wake in the morning.
There was none of that.
There was however, the sun peeking through my curtains in the morning as I stirred from my sleep; it's beautiful- but not enough to keep me.
I felt nothing.
Yet, as i took one last look around the room in hall 1 to figure what my measly bag can carry home, i felt a dull ache sitting in my chest.
Hall 1 wasn't family, it still isn't. But i've found a few great company in Hall 1, and </s> i am sad</s> i think it is unfortunate that some of these friendships may falter, sway and fade with every train ride I take home.
"Come back!", they say.
I don't say yes, I smile a smile because both you and I know that it wouldn't quite happen that way.
I will not return to a place that served no more meaning than a box for me to sleep, cook, eat and study in.
Oh hang on, I did grow in it- grow to learn how to be more independent than ever and that I can possibly survive alone but I would much rather be at home basking in the often annoying and comforting presence of family. I have plenty of time to be alone in future. Now is not the time.
But yes, back to my point-
i will not return. but I will, maybe, meet these beautiful people that I've met in hall, outside of hall instead.
I'm not sure why I dislike hall so much. Maybe it's the grime, the closet that has been used by tens and twenties, fifty people before, or the toilet and ugly yellow tiles that can never be scrubbed clean.