Where the journey begins...

   I always wanted to keep a diary, but I considered that I had nothing interesting to write in it, that my life was boring and also that I have no talent at composition what so ever. None! But now, as my life takes a major turn, I decided to start a blog and pour my thoughts in it. Because I moved to a different country two days ago I want to document everything. The process of adaptation, finding a job, getting more familiar with the language and culture, thoughts and feelings, everything will be right here. So let me start with the beginning.

   I've decided to leave my home country and move to a different one, a better one people would say. More opportunities, more jobs, more money, but less family and friends. I've been thinking about making the move for some time now, but a few weeks ago everything became real. I was leaving, there was no turning back. And I was blaming my country for making me leave. A thousand questions rushed through my head: Why do I have to leave? Why can't I find a job here? Why did I study all these years? Where would I go now? What would I do? It's impossible to describe everything I felt, but I'm sure that others have felt the same way. Living in an Eastern European country where life handles you only lemons and you can't find the water and honey to make lemonade made a lot of people go and look for something a little bit sweeter. Every day I heard that someone I knew had left for Italy, Spain, Canada, Australia and other countries. But I never thought that I would be one of them until three years ago when I lived in London for three months and I saw how life can be. It was then that I somehow knew that I would end up in a different country than my own, that maybe I would build a life and a career there.

   The day I left my home was devastating. It was only then that I realized what I was doing. I was really leaving, everything packed up, my whole life in a little suitcase. I was leaving everything behind, places I loved, family, friends, even insignificant little objects that I will miss. I cried, I cried my heart out, sobbed... it was hard. Did I really want to leave?

   So I got on a plane a landed in a different country, different culture, different people. The first thing that came to my mind when I got off the plane was: 'I want to go home' and that thought kept climbing back in my mind every minute. I wanted to go home so badly, to hug my family, to run the streets I knew, to see familiar faces...but no, I couldn't. I was stuck here for an undetermined period of time (six months tops and I'm going back - that's what I'm thinking even as I write this). I deceive myself by telling me that everything will be ok, that time heals everything, that time goes by fast and I will be back home sooner than I thought, that I will bring my best friend here once I get a proper job, but my heart still feels the pain. I can't talk on the phone with the people back home without feeling a lump in my throat and tears flooding my eyes.Images of  my house, of the park near my home, of my friends keep coming back to mind along with the words 'This time last week you were here. Don't you wish you go back to that?' Oh, I do, I really do.

   I will end my first post here, because everything I tried to repress for the past day is coming back. I will end this with some lyrics which describe my feelings perfectly:

  'I wish that you were here with me

    But we're stuck where we are

    And it's so hard, you're so far

    This long distance is killing me'.

(Bruno Mars - Long distance)



P.S.: When I read this post again, in 6 months or a year, I hope I will be happy and accustomed with everything. Or back home, why not.