As I lied on the bathroom floor, I looked up at the ceiling. Feeling empty as usual. Breathing, tearing up.

A threat, possibly being downplayed, because they know I'll never leave and I can't ever leave anyways.

Because everybody else has left, and yet I am the one who stayed.

"I think I understand how you feel"

"What do you mean?"

"The separation anxiety", my best friend said as she packs her things, leaving the place where we've seen each other's ups and downs, for good.

I would say I am the best person to talk to when it comes to separation, I see people come and go into my life all the time. Do you sometimes think it's unfair that people can walk out of a situation when we need them most? But when we stay for others, they don't ever appreciate our presence.

I'm tired of people not appreciating our presence and what we do for them. I'm tired of being selfless and yet we are nothing to them. Won't you feel tired? But when I try saying something, I am told to "grow up", or that I'm leaving under their roof. 

In my head, I'd pack my bags, get a one-way ticket, leaving no trace behind, and start all over. And admittedly, I may want to do so to prove a point, "let's see what happens when I'm actually gone." Because, realistically, I do have the capacity. I am an adult now, but I'm still a child here. I've always lived a life in a silver spoon, I was told, so I have no right to tell them how I feel. And maybe, they are right.

But as I took my time thinking about what happened, I realised what I was truly upset about. The little ones moved out about a week ago. It's such a shame, really, because I've just gotten back and would want to spend more time with them. And now, I am back to being the only child. I am and will always be a child in this house, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Yet, it's wrong to blame them for leaving. Everyone has their own lives to live. They have their own families to build. Everyone has got to move on eventually, and their time is overdue. 

I've always had a hard time dealing with separation, and this may hit worse for me, because I clung onto them for most of my life. Now, they're just strangers popping by for dinner. And that's okay.

I will try to be independent, as I have been for years. Time and time again I've learnt to let the people I love go. Who am I to peg their wings? They need to fly. 

More importantly, I shall appreciate those who stayed with me through everything, tell them I love them for all that they do and be there for them too.

One day, when I'm truly comfortable on my own, this won't hurt so bad anymore.