I tried to scribble down what it feels like. And this is what I got.
To cry yourself to sleep. To feel like you are invisible or to not feel like yourself. To feel as though the ground has been pulled out from under you. To feel like you are screaming but no sound is coming out of you and no one seems to notice. It’s as if you’re falling, falling, falling and there is nothing to grab on to and no idea when, or if you’ll ever land anywhere.
Part of the migration process is devastating, part of it is satisfying, and some moments are unbearable, while others pass by unnoticed. At one moment it sucks the marrow out of your bones. At another, it ignites it with light. Amidst the noise, there is always a prevailing silence. But when the stillness engulfs you the world outside is at its loudest.
There are moments when homesickness hits you hard like waves. They come unnoticed that you barely get the chance to clamp your eyes, or cover your head with a pillow or even against the wall. That loneliness feeling that hits hard when you can almost hear the noise, smell the odor, see the colour, walk the streets, but then you realise that you have to get accustomed to the new life you’re living now.