Remember the time when I used to worry about living for two years in this foreign country, alone for the first time in my 21 years of existence? Ten months in and now I’m worrying about a different problem. What if I go home in the Philippines and it doesn’t feel like home anymore? What if I am not contented of the simple life there anymore? What if I will continue to search for the independence that I would have mastered in my 2 years here, and my going home would drive me insane with the wanting to get out and live freely? I should have known that by the passage of time, thinga are meant to change also. I shouldn’t have been too brazen with my words, fueled by loneliness and homesickness. Now I’m feeling all torn and I could only write about it.