The Weight of Walking Away

The-Weight-of-Walking-Away

It’s almost 1am(image is wired up in the morning after waking up). I’m in this empty new bedroom, sitting on a hard mattress that isn’t mine, in a house that doesn’t smell like home. I’m writing this two days after leaving Pune — not because I was busy, but because I genuinely couldn’t understand what the hell was going on inside me.

07-12-2025, I chose this date to move out for a reason, just cause the numbers felt like some divine connection. I could have moved out next week, next month, but for some reason I just thought it was the right time. And although I was prepared for it, it was just too hard for me.

I can’t explain the feeling, I think people who have left their homes for education, or for jobs kinda know this feeling well. It’s never easy. Like how do you even describe this emotion? I remember watching Zakir Khan explain this feeling in his standup. And it tore me apart. Zakir Khan's YT Short on Leaving Home

Walking out

Cab was scheduled at 12pm. Ten minutes before the cab arrived, something inside me started to shake. Not visibly — but I could feel it. Like a warning sign: “If you stay here a little longer, you won’t leave. You physically won’t be able to.”
So I thought maybe I’d just walk out quickly. No drama. No goodbye scene. Just a clean exit.

But I don’t think any child can watch their parents cry for them, for me that is probably the worst feeling in this world. I couldn’t watch it, I couldn’t control my emotions when I saw my Mom tear up at the door. It was just unbearable. I couldn’t look at her properly. I couldn’t speak. I could feel everything I had shoved down for months clawing its way out.
I didn’t want to hug her fully first because I knew the dam would burst. But it burst anyway when I did fully hug. I cried like a child. Like the last time I cried from my gut, not from my throat. And somewhere in that moment I realised something important — “Like hey, maybe I’m not the numb, emotionally insensitive asshole I thought I had become. Maybe even numbness has a Kryptonite.” Numbness referenced in - Mood Autopilot

Anyway, I hugged my mom as tightly as I could, I swear to God, I didn’t want to leave at that moment. Then, near the lift, I saw my Dad picking up my bags to keep inside, and I hugged him tightly as well.
Now, this is something rare, ask any son in this world the times he has hugged his father and can he recall it. I am pretty sure we all have a number and we can recall every instance, cause it’s so rare and special. I could feel he was tearing up a little as well, and there have been only 2 instances where I have watched my father tear up a bit. One was back in 2024 when I lost my grandma and he lost his mom. And this was the second.

Meanwhile my sister felt all this was trivial and laughed hard as I was leaving. Haha, such a character, but I know her time will come, and she’ll finally understand what this moment actually felt like.

When I got in the cab and waved, that was it. And as I was travelling, I was crying my balls out for over 30 mins. I had hundreds of thoughts running in my head.
I questioned everything. Every decision. Every sacrifice. Every time I chose growth over comfort. Every time I chose “the right thing” even when every cell in my body screamed otherwise.

Because all this — me moving out to a different city — is self-inflicted pain. I could have easily asked for a remote job from home and nobody would have asked a question, but it’s this f**king competence mentality that just does not want to leave opportunities where I get to improve a lot more, grow more. And that’s the thing no one talks about — Necessary pain hurts. But self-inflicted pain? That shit slaps hard. When you walk into pain knowingly, voluntarily, the guilt, the doubt, the loneliness — they swallow you whole. You feel stupid. You feel dramatic. You feel brave. You feel lost. All at the same time.
Like, Mumbai is not that far from Pune, yet this was so damn painful. I could imagine my friends who have left abroad for higher studies, how they might have felt. I could empathise more with them now. I could imagine how they might have felt, it’s really difficult and painful.

But this voice in my head is never satisfied. It constantly asks for more sacrifices, more growth. While I questioned everything in my life, every single decision, every thing I have walked away from even when every f**king part of my body did not want to, but I did cause it was the right thing to do, I consoled myself unwillingly. What other option did I have? Listened to some motivational music, pumped myself up, asked myself -
“Remember why you chose this. Remember the WHY”

Survival Starts

When I reached the flat, I was exhausted. Not the physical kind — the emotional kind that feels like someone wrung your heart like a towel.
Dragging my baggage to the top (10th) floor.
Lol, that’s literally me carrying all that emotional baggage right to the top. Symbolic? Anyways, the flatmates were surprisingly warm, which eased something in me.For a moment, I felt seen. Not fully. But enough.
Also, one of them is very similar to me — a similar outlook, in a similar arc — so it felt nice to have someone you can relate to at this stage in life.

Later in the evening, talked to the house help, even she seems a good lady. Later after some meet-up with my friends in the evening I called my home, they seemed okay now. At-least on the surface, I felt a bit better knowing that.

And after dinner, I just sat in the room. All alone. Just the fan’s sound and my thoughts. I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t want to do anything. Just stared at the ceiling for a while.
Tried sleeping — couldn’t. Arranged my things. Tried again. Struggled because I didn’t bring my pillow. Eventually passed out. And that was Day 1.

That’s how my first day at the new flat ended.

Second day was me going out figuring out how I can plan my routine when I join new office. Going places, walking almost 12k steps in a day, asking questions, figuring out routes, diets, shopping at D-mart for basic essentials. Buying stupid things like doormats that, apparently, matter a lot when your feet are wet and the floor is dusty.

Anyways, there was a lot I did on the second day, a lot of organizing, a lot of planning and figuring out. It was eventful for sure. Also, made overnight oats for the first time, always wanted to but was too lazy. Well my flatmate helped me with that. But yeah, felt awesome, doing things alone, arranging new apartment alone. It felt nice. It’s funny how independence looks glamorous until you’re standing in a new city realising you don’t even own a bucket or a dustbin. And suddenly every small thing your mom did becomes a miracle you never appreciated.
This is what starting over feels like. Not fresh. Not exciting.Just… raw.

Reflections

I’m writing this on my 3rd day here. It feels nice in small pockets, but also a bit more alone and quiet than I expected. I’m not sure if I enjoy it yet. Maybe once office starts and a routine settles in, the empty hours won’t feel this heavy.

But I won’t pretend I’ve figured anything out. I haven’t.There are moments where the silence in this room feels too loud, moments where I reach for a version of comfort that doesn’t live here. I still miss home in ways I can’t properly put into words. Ghar toh ghar hota hai. And yes, I still question whether all this discomfort is worth whatever “growth” I think I’m chasing.

Yet somewhere inside all that chaos, something small is shifting. Not clarity. Not peace. Just… this quiet sense that I’m learning to hold myself up in ways I never needed to before.

I’m starting to realise that growing up isn’t linear at all. You build routines, feel like you’ve finally cracked some structure in life, and then out of nowhere everything changes. You pack it all up, move somewhere new, and start from scratch — not the same way as last time, but differently, because life demands a new version of you.

You get frustrated over stupid things like missing doormats and wrong utensils. You walk through unfamiliar streets pretending you know where you’re going — when you absolutely don’t. And still, something in you believes this path you chose is where you’re supposed to be. How delusional are we? Yet… be delusional. Honestly, just be stupidly delusional. Have the audacity to dream. It’s the only thing that’s pushed me forward in the last 2–3 years.

Meanwhile for all the pain of leaving, there’s a strange gratitude under it. The kind that comes from knowing you had something so good, it physically hurt to walk away from it. Not everyone gets that kind of home. Not everyone has parents who support their child’s dreams so fiercely. Not everyone gets to step into the world with that kind of love behind them. When I think of it that way, I realise I should be grateful — grateful that I even have something worth missing, grateful that I have a force behind me strong enough to make me want to grow.
I don’t know what this city will turn me into. I don’t know if this version of life will be worth the cost. I’m figuring out how to belong here, one awkward day at a time.
But hey — at least I’m trying. Not giving up as always. And for now, that feels like enough to keep going.

Bonus:

Few songs I listened to while writing this -

That's all for now. (Will probably write more this month)