an absurdly long title for a "poem" about my relationship with art and expression but not really, i'm actually talking about moving houses or something. maybe it's a metaphor, i don't know.

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there is a large evergreen tree in the distance i see every time i turn my head to the right, outside that blinding window. it stands out with the middle of a suburban neighborhood, surrounded by red bricked roofs and leafy trees. there is a flag of my country that flies right on top of it. there is a shorter tree that sits in front of it, it's barely noticeable since its colour is very similar. but if you look more carefully, its colour has a gold hint to it.

there's been some weird business going on in my family so we had to move a few times. the first time i moved i was 7, maybe 8. it was around the time where i recently celebrated my birthday. i distinctively remember the shiny hello kitty birthday balloon standing tall in the room of boxes, furniture, and other things thrown around. that day, i left for school from my familiar house, saying goodbye Āmā and Āgōng. I came home in a different one, greeting the empty walls. at that time, i didn't understand why we moved. they said it was adult stuff that i didn't need to worry about.

for the next 9 or 10 years, we lived in this house. it was small, but we got used to it. we got comfortable. my little siblings grew up in this house, barely remembering the one i grew up in. sometimes i wonder how it's like for them. we still visit the old house from time to time, especially when Āmā was diagnosed with dementia. dad encourages us to go visit with him, but i'm going to be honest, i don't really care about them. every time we visit we just say hi to them, sit around the dusty house for half an hour doing nothing and then we leave. tell me that i'm wrong for feeling like this but it's already in the past. i don't care.

recently, more drama happened with the adults. my family made us move again, back into the old house. they wouldn't tell us the details. they just said that dad needs to take care of Āmā 24/7 now. since traveling to my college takes at least half an hour by train, i left the house the earliest out of everyone in my family. my last moments here was eating breakfast alone in the dark kitchen. i came home to my new old house. half empty, half mess. i still remember that disgusting stench of the mold cleaner i used to scrub the walls.

it's weird living here as i'm older now. it feels like living in a memory, but in an alternative universe way. it's the same house with the same wooden floor and beige walls, but less toys strewn around and more computers and desks and homework. this house is ok. the living room is a lot more spacious i guess. from my desk as i am writing this, the window to my right shows me a familiar tree.

i know this tree, but it's a lot smaller than i remembered. the flag is gone. the smaller tree in the front is still there, but it's harder to see it now. a few of the houses have been rebuilt for more modern looking houses. plain, white, smooth boxes. 

i'm already used to this house. honestly, i didn't think much about the moving. i tried not to make it a big deal out of it, and accepted it. it's not like i have the power to stop the move or to afford to move out on my own. for the time being, i'll just have to be living here. at least i have my own desk now, yay.

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thanks 4 reading