Moving was always really exciting for me when I was younger, whether it would be from house to house or even from country to country; I would pack months too early and be counting down the days. I moved from England to America in June, 2011, and at first, I couldn't have been more excited. The hype eventually went away once I saw my friends posting about all the things they were doing together and all the places they were going.

I can remember the first time it really hit me that I was gone. Surfing the web always eventually led me back to Facebook, where I saw that my friends had all gone to the beach together. Something so small shouldn't have impacted me so much but I remember feeling absolutely destroyed. It had hit me that they were going to move on with their lives, and do everything without me. I would no longer be able to sit at lunch and eat our slices of cake together that you could get from the canteen, or simply walk to school with them anymore. They were to go on and leave high school and start University, something I'd always imagined we'd do together, without me.

It was a bitter realization but considering I had just moved to an entirely different country, I managed to put it in the back of my mind and do other things. As time went on, I would see them struggling with things and as much as I wished I could help, Facebook messaging can only do so much. I know they say that a physical relationship isn't necessary for long distance relationships but it certainly was the biggest strain. The time difference certainly didn't help either, we would only have a short window during the day to message back and forth but it was usually taken up by my being at school and them just living their lives.

I had completely drifted from the people I had grown up with. We were still friends technically, but nowhere near as close as we used to be. There are some friends I had spent years with that I haven't had a conversation with since I left five years ago.

My family also moved on with their lives, my sister had a baby before I left and now he's grown into a little boy, and she recently had a baby girl. My Nan had a stroke and I didn't find out about it until a year later. There were so many things that I was no longer included in because I was gone. The rational part of me knew this was going to happen and completely understood it, but the other part of me felt alone and so left out.

I miss my family and friends more than anything in the world and as proud of them as I am for everything they've achieved, there's always that part of me that wishes I could be there for it. To hold my new niece, to go to University with my friends like we had planned, for my sister to finally take me out clubbing like we always said she would.

I watched the house I spent most of my life in be transformed into someone else's childhood home. I still look it up on Google Earth just to see what the new owners have changed. I make sure to look up my friends' houses, my old school, and my old childhood hangouts, too. The tree where I had gotten stuck and my mum had to come get me has now been chopped down. The playground where we all went on the weekends has changed dramatically and had gotten taken over by homeless people at one point, new stores were added where we had previously gotten our groceries, everything homey about my childhood town had been replaced.

As thankful as I am that I got to experience a different culture with completely different people, I miss everyone back home terribly. I still laugh at the stupid inside jokes we had, I still laugh at the thought of my dad singing Mr. Bombastic in the car, and I can still remember the names of the teachers I so dearly hated.

The problem with moving countries is that you watch it change to a place you no longer recognize. I didn't feel at home in New York because it wasn't England, and I knew I wouldn't feel at home in England because it wasn't how I left it.

Maybe one day I'll find somewhere that feels like home again, but until then I'll keep moving until I fit.