no one talks about the unannounced death of a version of you when you move countries. sometimes i canβt control the grief i have for the 8 year old me and the wish to have stayed with her a little longer. having to move is surely a blessing as it opens space for new experiences and people to enter your life. however, when you're a child, everything moves fast and there's little time to reflect because of all the naivety and constant learning. you don't understand the consequences of not spending enough time with your grandmother or how convenient it was to make or even keep friends.
it's one thing to move before you gain consciousness. it's another thing to move when you do gain consciousness, but don't exactly know what's going on.
maybe this isn't about moving. maybe this is about growing up or maybe it's about both.
