I exhaled a huge amount of air as I rolled and packed my clothes inside my luggage bag.
"I'll surely miss Cebu," I said to myself.
Zipping the bag, I sighed once again.
I went up from my room to breathe some fresh air and check the sunlight. The ambiance and atmosphere is a far, far cry from Manila.
I went down again to check what I might have missed. Nothing, I guess.
My Tito finally came a few hours later to pick up my stuff.
"There's no turning back for you, Paolo."
It was my conscience making me bite reality.
"Yes, yes I know that," I replied.
It was sad saying goodbye to such a beautiful city. It was also my first time being completely independent. It was a wonderful feeling: you get to know yourself more, you get to do what you want to do more, and you get to be responsible for your actions more.
*A few days later
As I climbed onto the plane heading back to Manila I remembered the time I was going to Cebu.
I was worried and excited at the same time! Away from family and friends, heck, I don't even have any relatives there nor do I speak Bisaya and eat lechon. But it was a gamble I was willing to risk...
"Three months. Three fucking, stressful, toxic, educating, adapting, worrying, convoluting, happy months."
I looked at the sun again one last time before the plane ascended.
"But everything's gonna be okay," I told myself. "Everything will be okay."
As the plane finally lifted off I smiled down and looked beyond the place I shortly called home.