I just turned 21 years old back then when I, in some way or another, had me winged by desire to live abroad and triumph over the corporate world. I was young thus what makes this woman shoved aside the comfort of home was a fledgling ambition. That was, what I thought it was.
As to cast one’s mind back in 2014, I believe that was the best choice I possibly ended and was a splendid blessing for when I run away and dash another journey, I never knew what was ahead yet I still had faith to grow in different and surprising ways. Still, over my great expectations, I bumped more into challenges and tasted the bittersweet desert city.
I withstood the test of time over sorrows and unsettled thoughts of home, endured the pain of life’s burns and disquiets at work, remained in existence despite the unbearable heat, and survived the sore of being forcedly driven out from your flat. Suchlike, I know not how to sort things up but as they say the trouble with being in a rat race is that even if you win or lose, you’re still a rat. By those moments of cries and victories, you still stand like nothing’s ever happening. But why and why not, life’s like that.
I got bruises, I got blessings, all at once. Now I have this certain choice to become bitter or better as I move away from this city. Rib tickling though, fear is smacking me off my feet. I am going back home.
Strange. I am being prompted by fear by just a thought of home.
I am returning from where I started with bundle of nerves. Yes, I’m faint-hearted to start from where I started. Words fell flat and it’s difficult to express than keep it that I, in certain ways, have this fear of forgetting what I have become and being someone I used to be. Wrapping one’s mind, I have gotten used to doing things a specific way – different to how I had done them before leaving home.