I could stay here forever.
But the thought of never leaving is just as scary as the thought of planting roots.
I am wide awake in the blue hues of pre-dawn, conflicted about the dreams I'm afraid to chase, and the people and places I'd leave behind. Again.
I envy people who live in the town they grew up in, surrounded by friends they've always known, with their stable jobs, their picture-perfect families, their homely homes, and their annual holidays.
Me, I've always felt the need to lose myself in a foreign language, immerse myself in a new culture, meet very different people. And I always find a part of myself everywhere I go. And leave a part of myself behind.
I've spent 19 years as an expat in a handful of countries. Exploring, learning, growing. But I wonder: what would it be like to truly feel at home someplace, someday?