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On my way home!

I have been thinking about why I keep running into new existential crises almost every week. I am tempted to blame AI for no reason like I usually do, but let me be real and admit it all has to do with the choice I made to book a one-way flight to the United States four years ago. I thought it would be like a trip to Hawaii - I go, have fun, return home, bite everyone's ears off about my experiences in Hawaii even if they don't want to listen. But it turned out to be like space travel. I end up feeling like the only living being floating in vast nothingness, where gravity doesn't exist and sunlight doesn't reach, and don't even ask me about how far I am from home and how lonely it feels.

Every day I wake up in this strange place, I experience one of the following two feelings - either an unbearable mental ache where I start cursing a 24-year old me for making the choice that 28-year old me has to struggle with, or a relief and joy that I am floating freely without the pull of gravity. I have no clue which of these two feelings hits me on a particular day, it's as random as a coin toss, or for an example closer to home, it's as random as weather in Dallas. I do sometimes think about giving up on all this, and just going back to the familiar warmth and comfort of home. But I think living alone has made me so uncivilized that I am afraid I don't belong in the civilization anymore. Kind of like Tarzan, but space version. 

While I am stuck in this position of weird Zugzwang (a situation in chess when any possible move I can take only makes things worse), next week is supposed to be interesting. A magical portal (H1B lottery results) may appear that will transport me back to home in one year period. If it appears, I don't know if I will be sad that my space adventure is ending, or a relief that I can finally let gravity pull my feet down to ground. If it doesn't appear, my journey will extend for another six years, which I don't know how I feel about. Will it be another six years of me waking up not knowing which existential crisis will hit me that day? 

See, I know nothing at all, except for one thing. Regardless of when this journey will end - one year, six years or sixty years, I will try to keep floating ahead, and when my time comes, I will go out with a smile hopefully!

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