I'm going to Afghanistan (Inshallah).
I quote, "I (room-mate) will push you on the plane to Afghanistan if I have to. You may hate me then but you'll thank me later. You've wanted this for too long. You can come back if you decide you don't like it."
I'm getting cold feet. Bursts of panic during which I conjure up alternate goals for my life, stay here, move to my U.S. hometown.
The bursts of panic happened again tonight where I started to ramble about my blue mugs that my cousin gave me and how I'll miss them so much. And the rest of my nice serving dishes (that either my mom or relatives have given me). That's where my room-mate called bullsh*t. I really will miss my dishes but...I have wanted it for too long. I have to at least try.
I have wanted it for so long. Before college (when I met my room-mate), before high school, before elementary. Is it every refugee's dream? I remember shyly telling a cousin, "I want to be a lawyer and go back to Afghanistan to fix it." I was 11.
Some wrong turns here and there, but I'm back to the goals of an 11 year old. Which is a good thing.
So, I'm going to Afghanistan, Inshallah.
On another note, you all can thank my room-mate for fixing the comment situation. I didn't realize that I had the comments on 'moderate'. That's been corrected and hopefully y'all can comment freely and with no moderation!