7 hours

A distance of 6,000 kilometres separates me from an entire 23 years of history. 23 years of a life, true enough, with its ups and downs, but I was always loved. I didn't leave Malaysia because I hated the country (though I do hate the way things are run). I didn't leave because I chose someone over everything I had there. I left because I needed to follow my heart and I needed a change.

I miss the popiah ladies at the SS2 night market who have never failed to recognise me, the rojak lady at Taman Tun who always remembered my intolerance of raw mangoes. I miss being with people who have known me forever, as an ugly little girl, a pimply adolescent, a talkative young woman - I miss not having to explain myself and my motives, that I'm really just 17 at heart and often haven't a clue. I miss making stupid, perverse, unfunny jokes that people laugh at only because they care enough to. I even miss our weird taxi drivers who have no qualms about questioning my entire personal history within seconds of meeting.

Yet this distance has its advantages. In the 4.5 months I've been here, I've hit the lowest point in my life. Thing is, I've been so blessed my entire life, I've never known the taste of failure. In fact, the only time I've ever really failed at anything was a Tax paper. I've never had to work too hard to get what I want and coming here has been a slap on the face. Failing to get a job, failing to even pass my driving test. I know it doesn't sound so bad to the average person, but with repetition, it can leave even the most optimistic person (read: me) depressed and suicidal.

Distance strips away the superficialities of relationships and bares them for what they really are. When X and I were doing the whole long distance thing, no one understood why. But the thing is, I knew I had to grow up and enjoy my bachelorette-hood and freedom before I could really commit to a relationship. And instead of focusing on the physicalities of courtship, we chose to enjoy emotional connection through words, written and verbal. This proved to be the right choice - from the start, we felt like we've never been apart at all. In these 4.5 months, friends whom I considered to be my dearest have slowly fallen away to the odd MSN message or nothing at all. Others have blossomed. Some old acquaintances here have extended their friendships, often going out of their way to meet me for a quick meal when I'm nearby. Those unable to be physically present continue communication, writing extensive, heartfelt e-mails or counselling me on MSN for lengthy periods.

My relationship with my family had always never been particularly deep. My choice of adjective may not be particularly usual, but it illustrates that we've always had a relationship, I'm just not sure how much we cared. We had nothing like the tempestuous dilemmas that befall the Brothers & Sisters clan, but it was always lukewarm and only surface-skimming. Yet in coming here, we're forced to confront each other one-on-one over the phone. Without all the usual daily mundaneities to talk about, I feel like I'm finally really getting to know my family. And I love what I'm discovering everytime.

With all the wise words I get from friends, new (you will not believe how the event of immigration draws people from opposing ends of the earth together) and old, I'm slowly returning to my former optimism. And while I can never replicate the life I had back then, I hope to create another which will bring me as much happiness.