I watch the clock on my night table attentively, counting ten seconds until it starts ringing, reminding me it's time to get up from bed. I still don't know why I use it since I always wake up before the alarm, but there's a high chance that the day I decide not to use it, I'll never wake up. I start walking towards the kitchen with a hundred things going on in my mind. I try to ignore them as much as possible and focus on the cup of coffee I need to make.

I wait for Micio, my little fur ball, to come and sit on my lap before I start having my breakfast. The window in front of me is open, and I focus on the people walking by while the purring of Micio is interrupted by the chirping of birds.

Leopardi, in one of my favorite poems, talks about how every storm offers us the opportunity to grow, discover our inner strength, and develop greater self-awareness. It is a time to appreciate the lessons learned and to be grateful for what we have. I think this is my moment of "calm after the storm," but it's not going to last long, it never does.

However, I don't want to ruin my morning with these thoughts, so I go back to cuddling with Micio. When I finish my coffee, I start walking towards the bathroom to try and make myself presentable.

After a shower that should've lasted only fifteen minutes but ended up taking more than half an hour, I take my prayer mat and head towards what I like to call the prayer room. It's just a little corner of my room where I put some candles in a failed attempt to make it look good. Calling it a prayer room makes it seem fancier than it is, and with that, I can say that my day officially begins.

It's Sunday, so I should probably stay at home and relax since it's the last Sunday before I start working, but if I stay home for another five minutes without anything to do, I'll probably go crazy. So I put on a simple, cozy outfit, comfortable for a bike ride but not very stylish, and head out, ready to leave this house that has started feeling like a prison over the last few weeks.

I've always wanted to live alone. I don't know why, maybe because I grew up in a big family, but I always thought that if I ever left everything and everyone behind and went to another country alone, I would be... content. Not happy, just content, which is enough for me.

And it was like that at the beginning. When I first came to the States a few months ago, I was the happiest person in the world. I felt free; I could be whoever I wanted without my past coming in and ruining everything. I was able to be myself, and it felt amazing.

But soon, the little fantasy world I was living in started crumbling, and I found myself just like before. Nothing had changed, actually. I was the same Jasmine, shy, always compliant, and plain. The only difference was that now I was also alone.

But it's better this way, and I won't let anyone ruin the little piece of peace I've built for myself.

These days have been very strange. I got my engineering degree four months ago and decided to move to the States looking for better opportunities, or at least that's what I like to tell myself. I've spent these last weeks doing absolutely nothing, which I'm not very used to, and I believe that if I didn't start working tomorrow, I would go crazy. As soon as this thought crosses my mind, I feel a wave of anxiety wash over me, so I focus on finishing my prayers. Just as I get up from my little corner, I hear a notification sound from my phone, and I quickly check to see who it is.

My eyes skim the text from Loren, the only person I've met since I came to the States. We met during one of my morning walks after she literally spilled half of her coffee on my shirt. After that, I discovered that people in New York don't walk—they're always running. If you don't keep up, be prepared for that kind of experience. We talked for a bit and exchanged social media accounts, but I never thought she would actually remember me, let alone text me and ask to meet.

My fingers almost move on their own, ready to tell her I can't, but then I stop myself and think for a second. Before coming here, I promised myself I would try to get out of my comfort zone, meet new people, and try new experiences. But that idea doesn't seem as appealing now. Still, I don't know anyone here, so I encourage myself, knowing I will regret this, and text her back asking where we should meet. I don't feel instant regret, which usually happens, so I smile at Micio and go back to cuddling him, thinking that this new start isn't going to be as hard as I thought.

Or so I thought.