I have chosen the life of parting. I have become the airport dweller, bound to spend her life in transition. I don’t regret this choice and yet every single time I have to depart, I’m filled with sorrow. The notion of being trapped in a decision can often be frustrating.

A part of me belongs home. Certain times everything I want is there; I return with immense joy and satisfaction. Nevertheless, those times just never seem to last long enough to hold me in place. The friends I have in Albania will always be my closest but they also leave for school like I do. While I may like the city in the short intervals of vacation, I would not be fulfilled with the school system there. People say when you prove to yourself you’ve made the right decision, leaving a part of your life behind becomes simpler. You don’t carry burdens in your conscience. You don’t look back a lot. I know I have made the right decision; I still have regrets.

A part of me needs my family. I regret never giving much attention to them. After I left, I realized that I had lost the opportunity to completely make it up to them. It dawned upon me that I would never live at home again. I had made the decision to be on my own and had lost a lot in this exchange. Sometimes I feel lonely and isolated; I feel guilty for leaving them. Sometimes I wish there was some other way. Yet when I ask myself, if I would have made the same decision had I went back in time now, I always stick to my original judgment because I have also won a lot. I have matured and expanded the horizon of my knowledge beyond what Albania could offer me. I have made my parents proud and redeemed myself.

A part of me lives inside my friends. With them, I experience farewells quite often. We each have our own path so in a way we can only be together for short periods of time. The idea of urgency makes our interactions more meaningful, causes me to cherish every second. Still every time I hug somebody goodbye, a weight settles in my heart at the thought of having one less loved one by my side. My departure, though, seems to directly affect the bonds I create back home. Ironically, some of those friends I have to leave, I have gained thanks to the personality and mentality that leaving has taught me.

A part of me feels shunned as if society has forgotten that I too belonged there at some point—maybe more than they ever will. As time passes the faces became less and less recognizable and I am sure I disappear from their memories as well. One night, laying in bed, I thought about all the changes my life went through when I moved to America. I thought about my old school and imagined myself still there, untouched, a young, naïve girl with big ambitions but no motivation around her. Many times I’ve stood in front of the school, a similar count I have not entered. The place doesn’t accept me anymore or maybe it’s me that doesn’t familiarize with the surroundings. I realize then, I am no longer the same person that attended that school. With my growth, I cannot be satisfied with an ordinary life. I want to strive for more—become someone with a legacy.

Some good-byes are harder than you first perceive. Sometimes it takes a while for the reality of leaving your home behind—of being completely alone—to hit you. I have recognized that this decision has been a pivotal point in my life. I miss my home, and my family, and my house, and the city and the language but deep inside of me, I always feel the urge to smile because I have decided to be strong. I have chosen to forget what my life could have been. I have accepted that everything might just be better this way.

A part of me thinks like a survivor.