September, 21st. Better known as the last day of summer in the US. But waaaaay better known as the beginning of spring in Argentina (and the south hemisphere).
Exactly one year ago I was just moving to America, and I was going through the hardest time ever. The beginning of the spring in Argentina was the worst: my friends were over there, finishing the school year, partying every weekend, going to the pool, and hanging out all the time. And I was here, missing everybody, crying everyday, without friends, not getting used to the school, and freezing. Knowing that I could had been there with my friends having the time of my life was killing me...
The spring came here, and time went by... and I started to get used to America and to miss Argentina a little bit less every month. Eventually I got used to my new home, and then summer came. Everything was cool. But now spring arrived to Argentina like every September, 21st. And of course, the fall came to New Jersey. I was expecting to get some kind of crisis and freak out and cry and all of those things that happened to me last year.
My friends were all partying together, they didn't have school, they went to a night club, they were drunk, they were just enjoying life, and I was here. They were all saying "you should be here!" and that's when I realized that I didn't wanna be there. Surprisingly I was happy here: YES, in school. YES, nervous about a presentation for history. YES, the fall was coming. YES, I'm not partying. YES, I know I don't have as many friends as I had back there. But yesterday, while I was jogging around my neighborhood, I realized that I am happy the way I am.
I'm starting to feel like I grew apart from my friends and from everything that they are used to do. While the most exciting thing they have over there is to go to nightclubs, I am here living a life time experience. They have no idea what's going on outside their world, and they think that hanging out with friends is everything that this life has to offer. And I used to be like that, that's why I cried for months when I came here.
Today I am proud of myself. I almost gave up back on November, and something told me I had to stay. I almost decided to go back on July, and something again told me I had to stay. Now I'm happy, and I look back and I see everything that I have accomplished in this past year. It was hard and it was frustrating in some situations. But today I'm glad to say that I am happy, despite all of the things that I am constantly complaining about.
I sacrificed a million things, a million other adventures, for just one experience. And believe me, it feels awesome to see how far I have come. Now I finally realize that all of those parties and afternoons with my friends were not even as good as what I experienced here.
What I want to tell to everybody that is reading is that... sometimes we wanna give up, sometimes things are so hard that we just cannot keep fighting. I went through the darkest of times last year, I used to cry every night holding an Argentinian shirt. But no matter how much I wanted to go back, I kept on walking, I did not stop. And here I am, happy and glad I did that.
This is one of those moments where I listen to "The Climb", and I understand that feeling, because even though I am not on the top yet, the view is starting to get pretty good.
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