Maybe, I Miss Me

 It’s been two years since I left Melbourne.

And still, without warning, I find myself missing everything about it—the streets, the weather, the coffee, the quiet moments in between. Sometimes it’s just a song, a smell, a word that takes me back. And suddenly, I’m there again.

But maybe it’s not just the city I miss.

Maybe I miss me—the version of myself I was becoming there.

Melbourne gave me space to grow, to think, and to slow down. I was learning, not just in class, but in life. I was away from everything familiar, yet I felt more like myself than I ever had.

I think part of my heart stayed in those grey-sky mornings, the tram rides through tree-lined streets, the long walks after class, the random conversations, and the solitude that didn’t feel lonely.

Time has moved on, but maybe feelings don’t follow the same clock.

Maybe I haven’t moved on because that part of my life still feels unfinished—like a beautiful chapter that ended too soon.

And that’s okay.

I’m allowed to carry places with me.

I’m allowed to miss what shaped me.

And maybe, one day, I’ll return—not to relive the past, but to honour it.