a week later...

I spent a lot of time in my room, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home. The soft glow of the lamp on my bedside table cast long shadows across the room, making the familiar space feel both comforting and alien.

The walls were adorned with pictures from my past, memories of a simpler time before everything became so complicated.

My desk was cluttered with papers and notebooks, the tools of my trade, but even my writing couldn't fully distract me from the persistent ache in my heart.

Some days, I forced myself to visit family relatives and friends. It was good to see them, to be wrapped in the warmth of their familiarity, but even in the midst of laughter and conversation, a part of me always felt distant, like a spectator in my own life.

I smiled and nodded, shared stories and listened, but the moments of joy were always tinged with a sense of longing.