You ever just… feel like you’re doing everything right, you know? Like you’re playing by all the rules, and then one day you wake up and realize everyone else just… stopped playing? It’s not even that they’re cheating, they just moved on to a different game and forgot to tell you. Or maybe you just weren’t invited to the new one. That’s kinda where I’m at right now. Like, what was the point of all that effort? I came here, right? New country, new beginnings, all that jazz. It was… a BIG move. HUGE, actually. Left everything, everyone, family, friends, the language, the food, everything I ever knew. And you feel good about it, proud even. Like, yeah, I’m building something. I’m starting fresh. And at first, it’s all good. You meet people, you connect. There’s that initial buzz, you know? The ‘we’re all new here’ vibe. Or like, ‘we’re all immigrants in this together’ vibe. You find the other lost souls at work, at the grocery store, at some random community event. You exchange numbers, you make plans. It feels… full. Like you’re part of something. But then… life, man. It just… happens. My work schedule, it’s brutal. Nights, weekends, sometimes it’s like I live at that place. And then you try to connect, but their shifts are different. Or they’re busy with their own stuff. And the language thing… it’s a BIG DEAL. I mean, I *can* speak it. I can get by. But having a REAL conversation? A deep one? That’s another story. And sometimes you just get tired of fumbling for words, you know? Like, you just want to say something and not have to translate it in your head first. Or explain the nuances. It’s EXHAUSTING. So you just… don’t. And then the distance starts. And then those initial connections? They just… evaporate. Like dew in the morning sun. One minute you’re making plans for coffee, the next it’s been months and you haven’t even texted. And you see them, sometimes, at the store or something. And it’s always that awkward, “Hey, how’s it going? Yeah, we should REALLY catch up soon!” And you know it’s a lie. You both know it’s a lie. And it just makes everything feel… flatter. More isolated. And you just… sigh. What do you do? Chase people down? Beg them to hang out? And all this while, my mother, back home… she’s not doing great. Every call, it’s something new. She forgets things. She sounds… weaker. And I’m thousands of miles away, just hearing it over a crackly phone line, feeling that familiar pang of uselessness. Like, I made this big move, for what? To be alone here and just… hear about her decline from a distance? It’s a gut punch, man. Every single time. You try to tell yourself it’s fine, it’s just how things are. But it’s not fine. It’s just… quiet. Really, really quiet.