currently I think I'm living in my very own fantasy. even when it gets harder, everything seems wonderful to me, the cold weather(but still very much torturing!), the people, and even the wall at the UofA seems pretty gorgeous nowadays. White snows everywhere complemented with cheerful and bright sun. Walking has never been this satisfying. And at night walking in the cold, that gives a feeling, which I just couldnt describe, Never knew, I would be leaving soon. Dont get me wrong, I still do love paddy field very much. Waking up to the sight of familiar faces. The humidity. The smell of the rain, and tea. Those feelings make me gay. It's just that living abroad has been contagious, habitual, and a routine of mine for the past three years. Living through falls, winters, and the anticipation of springs and summer. and I think I'm addicted to these. Living abroad teaches me solitude. Teaches me independence. Teaches me to push myself to the limit. I accept myself as I am, I learn confidence, I learn gestures, I learn respect, and I become bolder in a sense that I know what I don't want, and what I want. Just because this is the road I taken, that doesnt make my story better than yours. and not just because this is not the road you taken, your story is better than mine.