记录一些心情。用中文觉得无病呻吟，但情绪还是需要梳理，换种方式分享。

Fourth day in Auckland.

The sky here feels wider. The air is softer. Birds sing at hours I’m not used to.

I’m here with family, yet loneliness sits quietly beside me — not loud or dramatic, just there, like a fog that doesn’t ask to be noticed.

It’s not exactly homesickness. It’s the ache of being a stranger to your surroundings, and perhaps, to yourself.

I don’t miss home so much as I miss the version of me who belonged somewhere — who moved through her days with a rhythm she didn’t have to think about.

Now, everything is new. Beautiful, yes. But beauty doesn’t always feel like comfort.

Maybe this is what growing feels like:
not a leap, but a slow unraveling and reweaving — of place, of identity, of self.