Sheffield, England. 21:18.

It’s been a week since I moved to England. I really thought I’d feel more different.

Instead, I’ve mostly been doing very normal things. Buying groceries. Figuring out buses. Cooking. Walking around Sheffield with Google Maps open even when I’m pretty sure I know where I’m going.

Sometimes I still catch myself thinking, wait, I actually live here now. That’s probably the strangest part that I haven't been able to get off my head.

For years, England was somewhere I always wanted to go. A place from football matches. Now it’s somewhere I wake up every morning.

I really do miss home, especially the little things. Hearing my family in the next room. Knowing exactly where everything is. Eating something without having to read the label first. Being around people who have known me long enough that I don’t even have to explain myself.

Here, everything is new, including me.

I’m still figuring out what my life looks like when nobody is watching over my shoulder. Maybe that’s what I came here for.

It’s only been a week.

I still don't know these streets by heart. I still look at the map. I still sometimes wake up and remember that I'm far from home.

But tomorrow I'll wake up here again.

And maybe, little by little, this strange place will stop feeling like somewhere I came to.

It will just be somewhere I am.