Quite frankly, I don't understand how I got here. I can't seem to fathom the fact that this year is almost over. That person sitting on my bed back home, staring at the yellow walls doubting herself, that's not me. She wants to be, and she will eventually get there, but she's not me. Not yet anyway. A lot can change in a year. A lot has changed in a year.
Moving to a city five times the size of your home country can be very tricky. Imagine a fish in a bowl. Now imagine that same fish in the Atlantic Ocean. Yes, my point exactly. Fish has to search for its own food, clean after itself, and avoid being eaten up by much bigger much more powerful fish. In a nutshell, Fish has to learn to adapt, because if it doesn't, there's no way it will survive. Some may call it survival of the fittest. Truth be told though, it has nothing to do with fitness, nor survival. It has everything to do with heart, and will.
Then, without you even realising, you become a part of them, a part of these underwater breathers; breathers who stand on the right side of an escalator, who hold the door for you no matter how busy their day may be, who act like they're reading the daily newspaper simply because they want to avoid eye contact in the subway. Whether you like it or not, you become a part of this school of fish. Sometimes, at least after a while, they all start to look the same. Just like fish breathing through their gills. They're all different but they're all the same. Just like you.
Nevertheless, you'd still choose the ocean over the bowl. Because even though the bowl is fun for a while, it gets cloudy with time, and with time, your vision starts to get blurred. And blurs and life do not go well together. Risks, on the other hand, do. There is nothing more fulfilling than sitting in one of these two-storey-high red buses, crying your heart out, knowing you took a risk and you made it happen. You actually did it. Not Fish, you. You and this overwhelming sense of gratitude towards this heart-poundingly beautiful life.