Remembering My Last Decade pt.2
When I think back on my time in America, it feels less like a straight line and more like a quiet unfolding—a path that wandered, paused, and turned, not always with direction, but always with meaning. I didn’t arrive with a perfect plan. I arrived with hope, curiosity, and a quiet hunger to discover what the world—and I—could become. My first landing place was Dallas, Texas. I enrolled in a community college to study English for a semester, trying to find footing in a place that felt vast and unfamiliar. The days were simple and unsure. Every conversation was a small step toward understanding; every mistake, a lesson folded into my memory. I moved downtown soon after, chasing an idea of studying nursing. It seemed like a noble and stable choice, something I could be proud of. But over time, I began to feel a soft dissonance between the path I had chosen and the quiet voice inside me that was still searching. I didn’t leave nursing because I failed at it—I left because it wasn’t mine t...
