Okay, here goes nothing... or everything, I guess. It’s late, way too late, and I can’t sleep. Again. So, here I am, tapping this out on my phone, feeling like a real idiot for even bothering, but maybe someone out there gets it? Anyone else ever feel like they’ve just... wasted it all? Not like, *all* all, but the important bits? I moved here, you know, this big city, years ago now, to teach. Left my little town, everyone knew everyone, nothing ever changed, you know how it is. Thought this would be it. My big adventure before the clock really, truly runs out. And it was, for a while. New sights, new smells, all that jazz. But lately... lately it just feels like I’m stuck in another small town, only this one is full of people who are just as lost as I am, maybe even more so. I mean, I found other expats, of course. That’s what you do, right? You find your people, the ones who understand what it’s like to be away from home. Only, it’s not really like that. Not for me anyway. We meet up, usually at this one pub, and it always, ALWAYS turns into a gripe session about the locals. How they drive, how they talk, how they eat, how they just don't *get* things. And I sit there, and I nod along, and sometimes I even add my own little complaint, just to fit in, you know? Just to be part of the club. And then I go home and I feel absolutely awful. Because... because it’s not true. Or not all of it. Most of the people here are perfectly lovely, just trying to get by, same as anywhere. And I actually *like* some of the things they complain about! The way they haggle, the afternoon tea rituals, the sheer chaos of the markets... I find it endearing, even. But I can't say that. Not to them. Because then I'd be the odd one out, the one who actually likes it here, and then what? Then I’d have no one. It's just... I came here to experience something, to learn, to connect. To prove to myself, I guess, that I wasn't just old Mrs. Henderson from down the road, stuck in her ways. And instead, I’ve just found a different version of the same old thing. A small-minded group, only this time we’re all from different countries, complaining about the people who *live* here. And I’m complicit. I’m part of it. I sit there and let them talk down about this place that has, honestly, given me a home, a job, a life for the past decade, and I just... smile and nod. Am I the only one who feels this crushing guilt? Like I’m betraying something important, something I can’t even name? I’m going to be going home for good in a few years, maybe sooner, and what am I going to tell people? That my big adventure was just... a long, drawn-out complaint? God, I really messed this up, didn’t I?