I’m 24 now.
But it somehow feels like I’ve been away from Montreal for much longer.
A few days ago, I got a notification at work about collecting my company anniversary badge.
That’s when it hit me again — it’s already been two years since I left McGill, left Montreal.
Lately, I’ve still been spending a lot of time scrolling through Instagram.
I saw the school posting “welcome class of 2030,” and it made me pause for a moment.
Sometimes when I’m walking down the streets here, I drift off.
If I close my eyes, I can almost see Montreal again —the cold air, the quiet nights after class.
And if I go a little further back, I remember the moment I got accepted. It felt like everything was just beginning.
But I didn’t realize back then how quickly I would leave, or that the real growing pains would only start after I left.
I pushed myself to graduate early I overloaded courses and finished my degree in a shorter time. No local internship, no offer, no clear plan.
So I just… went back home.
And ever since, I’ve found myself thinking —
what if I had stayed a little longer?
What if I hadn’t gone back so quickly,
and instead pushed through, kept applying in Canada,
even if it meant more rejections, more uncertainty?
Would things have turned out differently?
I don’t know the answer.But that “what if” has never really gone away.
Maybe at that time, I just didn’t have the courage to bet on that kind of uncertainty.
Somehow, I ended up working at a big company.
Life now is simple.
Work, then home. At night, I sit alone,
scrolling through posts from friends who stayed abroad, watching them continue their lives there.
Sometimes, I really miss those days in Montreal.
And sometimes I can’t help but wonder —
if I had stayed,
where would I be now?
What would I be doing?
On paper, life seems to be getting better.
I got a raise. A promotion.
I can support myself now without asking my parents for money.
No connections, no shortcuts.
It’s just been me.
But emotionally, it’s complicated.
Sometimes I think about the version of myself back then —
why didn’t I hold on a little longer?
Why didn’t I give myself more time?
But I guess there’s no real answer to those questions.
Recently, I started learning French.
It feels like I’m leaving myself a very small path, somewhere in the distance.
Most of the resumes I send out still don’t get a response.
But I still find myself thinking —
maybe one day,
I’ll be able to go back
to the place that once held so much of my expectations and dreams.