31/08/2026
Sometimes, I find myself mimicking a scenario from a life I no longer have.
After cooking and packing my lunch, I leave everything behind in the kitchen and go back to my room to prepare myself. I put on my clothes, fix my things, and carry my bag as if I am about to leave for school again.
Then, before finally going out, I return to the kitchen to get my lunchbox.
And in my mind, I quietly say, *“I’m leaving now. See you later.”*
It reminds me of childhood—when leaving the house meant shouting to our parents, *“I’m going now!”* or saying to Mom, *“See you later.”* There was always someone left behind. Someone who knew you were leaving. Someone waiting for you to come home.
But adulthood hits differently.
Now, you cook your own food, prepare your own lunch, and pack it into your own lunchbox. You prepare yourself to leave, and when you walk out the door, there is no one to shout goodbye to.
Because somehow, without realizing it, you became the person who does everything for yourself.
You became the one preparing the lunchbox.
The one leaving.
And the one coming home to an empty apartment.