Sometimes it seems as if my life is a surrealist painting.
The reality of my past and the reality of my present are constantly colliding.
When I'm in a room, just outside the doors I can almost believe America is
living and breathing. If I walk out the door I'll find myself on Tennyson
Street, ready to go to my favorite coffee shop and then head to my parents to
play with their puppy. Like in a dream, travel home is easy and instant. And
then, when I wake up, I'm scared Peace Corps will kick me out because I'm not
allowed to leave the country without their permission.
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