After I finished all the things that needed to be prepared, I'm now getting ready for my relocation trip. I packed only one luggage and one handbag, which has all my necessities and clothes.

I looked at our big house one last time, and an empty feeling suddenly started creeping in my heart. I immediately push away any of my thoughts and set aside the empty feeling.

I lived here for 25 years from my previous life, yet it never felt like home.

2 weeks ago, after I asked my parents to sign all the documents that needed to be signed for my relocation, they notified me that they will be going back to New York as they have finished all their workloads here in California.

We have a bigger house in New York which they purchased because my sister, Irish, studies there.

This means that they won't know that my presence will not be felt here for a really really long time, and it's not like they care as well. Honestly, in my previous life, after I turned 10, I already learned to care for myself.

Back then, I only saw the mute house caretaker once a month. My parents rarely visit me in our house here in California. When they were here, they never tried to communicate with me. Instead, they speak with my sister on the phone all night after finishing their work.

I remember feeling lost and really brokenhearted back then.

But there's no point thinking about it now that I'm leaving. There's no point in holding onto a heartbreak.

Now that I'm departing from here, I'm hoping to leave all the hatred, pain and sadness as well.

After my plane landed, I immediately called a taxi and settled in my apartment.

While laying in bed right now, I'm starting to worry how a "10-years old child" like me will be able to survive on her own. Even though I have all the papers signed indicating my parent's approval for transfer of residency, I still worry that some random stranger will call childcare or child protection on me while I'm not paying attention.

Also, I have enough money in my pocket that would be enough to last me for more than a year, however, I still cannot let my guard down and need to find an immediate source of income.

I also cannot continue relying on the monthly allowance that my parents deposit in my account.

Well, too much for being independent at my current age. I cannot help but sigh.

Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. As soon as daybreak comes, I'll head out to go to the local market or grocery store.

For the meantime, I unpacked my luggage and checked all the furniture and appliances that I have at my rented home.

The next day, I woke up early and dressed up to go to a local store. This time, I'm confident that I look like a child running errands for her mom.

After buying all the necessities and items that I need to create my own product, I went home and ate the take home pizza that I bought as well.

I'm planning to make a bottled coffee as my sale item, an espresso beverage that can be easily adjusted by the buyers to their own taste, whether they like iced or hot ones.

I don't have a fancy machine to help me create my products, so I'm doing a method of using Aeropress.

The result will probably be a product of a different texture than the usual ones in cafes from my previous life, but the taste would still be the same. So that's good enough.

After I finished making 15 bottles of coffee, I decided to go out and sell it for a dollar and fifty, which barely had any revenue on it.

But my goal is for people to taste it first. Coffee is addictive, and some people like coffee as it makes their day productive. In this case, I can provide a low start-up price and slowly increase it if the demand also increases.

The first door that I knocked on had an elderly woman come out.

I smiled at the lady and showed her the bottles of coffee that I'm currently holding.

"Hi ma'am, would you like to buy one of these bottles of coffee? This is homemade, and the taste is not anything like the instant coffee you make out of sachets. The price is a dollar and fifty."

"Oh this is my first time seeing you in this neighborhood." The old day commented. "Are you helping your mom sell these?" she added.

"We recently moved here from California. And yes, we sell these to help out for our daily expenses" I lied, well, better than telling her I live alone.

"That's very responsible of you, sweetheart, give me two of those." She pulled out some money from her pocket and handed it over to me. I went ahead and gave her two bottles of coffee and thanked her.

I went to many more houses and knocked on their doors to sell my items. In no time, I managed to sell out all of it. Fortunately, most people in this neighborhood are nice and sweet.

I'm walking right now and heading to the park which I passed by earlier while going to the local store.

Earlier, I saw a group of Elementary children playing volleyball. There was an old man on the side who looked like a coach watching over them.

When I reach the place, the children and the man I saw earlier are still there, practicing ways of passing the ball. However, the kids look like they are no longer in the mood to play, their energy already at their limit.

I watched from the sides for a long time, trying not to make my presence known. I noticed that the coaching watching over the kids are constantly sighing, his face showing a disapproving look.

Maybe he is disappointed that the kids are not taking the practice seriously, and are not eager to learn.

That day, I picked up a few lessons that were taught to the kids, like how to toss and receive the ball properly.

In the following days, my routine consists of selling bottled coffees in the morning and then watching the kids at the park play volleyball in the afternoon.

However, at one time, the coach suddenly approached me. I was startled at first, but I remained calm and quiet.

"Kid, you have been watching us for the past few days now, do you want to join us?"

I stared at the man and nodded my head. Soon, I was part of the playing group. Even though I have watched from the sidelines and tried to learn many techniques, my body could not keep up and I kept on making mistakes.

The ball keeps flying off in a random direction when I try to receive it, or the ball will just randomly slip up my hands when I try to toss it.

I glance at the coach who is watching on the sidelines. He hasn't said any comments regarding my continuous mistakes.

However, I can't remove the uncomfortable feeling in my chest. The feeling that something is slowly being torn away from you while you are holding onto it very tightly.

Yes, I felt this before. Whenever I watched my parents ignore me for my sister. Or when Rowan, my sister's fiancé, whom I loved so much, would not give me a single glance.

Yes this is it. The feeling of losing but not wanting to lose.

Suddenly, I slipped up again and the ball flew to the coach's direction. He handed the ball over to me without saying a word.

"I'm sorry." I said then I immediately went back to my previous position.

No matter what, I need to get a hold of myself.

Calm down, Amary.

I raised my hands and slapped both sides of my cheeks. I sighed and focused more on the game.

Let's not lose ourselves in the process.