Lately, I feel like I’m living my life in a type of limbo, as if I’m suspended somewhere between reality and fantasy. I go through all of the normal motions of daily living. I get up and go to work. I go running. I make dinner. I go to sleep. I even explore the city and take myself on day trips. I’m enjoying life out here, but it’s as if it doesn’t belong to me. I can’t shake the feeling that, somehow, none of this counts. Maybe it’s due to my absolute lack of a social network, or that I haven’t been here long enough to develop a sense of permanence. Maybe it’s because the vast majority of my free time is spent alone. Whatever the cause, I feel like I’m floating aimlessly about this pseudo-life, that my real life is back in the states, and I’m watching it unfold before my eyes. Loved ones pass. Girlfriends get married. Friends relocate to distant cities. Life is moving forward without me, and I can only watch it from afar. I never thought it would feel so sad, so isolating, to live out here. I’m beginning to understand adventure comes at a price. So, I do my best to keep in touch with those I care about, to make sure a small part of me remains in their lives. I keep up with emails. I phone when possible. I remind myself this isn’t forever. Someday, I will be back and rejoin my life as I know it. Then, I will truly be able to appreciate the familiarity and security of being home.
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