I still remember back in January this year. After 2 years of being away, I was so excited to be going back to Pasir Ris. And then 3 days ago, after 4 months of being away, I was excited to be going back to Paya Lebar.
These two places aren't very far, they're merely 8 stations apart, and not a different state or anything. Still, it makes me feel like these two are huge places, occupants of big spaces in my heart.
They're both special in their own way, enough to make me feel emotional every time I have to leave one of them. Pasir Ris was where I grew up and out of my innocence, and Paya Lebar was where I learnt the most valuable lessons from about moving on.
When I went back to Pasir Ris in January, there was that familiarity. The feeling of recalling every outline of your bedroom, the positions of all the furniture, the places of all the little things; it's easy to remember all of that no matter how long you were gone, you know? It didn't feel like I'd been gone at all.
Still, after a few long months of being there from Ramadan til now, it didn't feel like home anymore. Deep inside I was aware that my parents and brothers weren't my only family. The friendships from secondary school weren't my only social circle anymore.
It was starting to feel like Pasir Ris was just a small town, kept from the outside world that is Paya Lebar and everywhere else. It felt like as long as I was in Pasir Ris, I'd be cooped in a shell, kept far too safe from what I'd been exposed to.
From the moment my dad kicked me out, that fateful day 2 years ago, he had permanently cut the cord that had tied me down to Pasir Ris. Try as I might, making it home again was like a glitch that corrupted all your memory, rendering your progress entirely useless. A glitch that you're better off not messing around with.
I decided that Paya Lebar is where I really belong now. Home isn't where you come from; it's where you choose to be. And this is where I choose.
So here I am now in Paya Lebar, but again, everything has changed. The old fire station has been turned into an office building. There's a new shopping mall with a frexing Starbucks. A neighbourhood police centre suddenly sits at the void deck.
At my home itself, nothing's changed since the last time I visited, but it still isn't the same anymore. It isn't the way I got so familiar with; no more of my books in boxes, no more of my clothes folded into stacks on the floor, no more wind to text "I'm home sayang" to.
At least, those books are now sitting beautifully on shelves at Pasir Ris.
At least, those clothes are now hung gracefully by hangers at Pasir Ris.
At least, that wind has been replaced by a ghost I met during my days at Pasir Ris.
At least, the cats still remember me, be it the ones in the house or the void deck.
At least, my grandmother still welcomes me home and loves me.
At least, I made it this far, to one year shy of being 20.
I have grown up a lot. I've spent my entire life at Pasir Ris, but it was the 2 years at Paya Lebar that taught me everything I know now.
It's not gonna be my place forever, but for now it's the place I love most. I love everyone at Pasir Ris, including my sister-in-law and my niece who is coming in a month's time, but Paya Lebar is where I'd like to belong to.
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