Just me.

Sometimes a cliche says it best. In this case, the cliche that would best describe my situation would be time flies.
It seems like only yesterday that I was boarding the aeroplane to America with such trepidation in my heart. In reality, more than a month has passed.
In the past month, I've learnt many new things, made some friendships which I think will be lifelong ones, and had quite a few experiences.
Yet, looking at the big picture, I guess you could say that I've barely begun. One month has passed, and five still remain ahead of me before I return to home and hearth.
I've come to the business end (my how easily the cliches flow) of the fellowship, where I actually knuckle down to work.
Things are slow right now, with the editors at my new paper trying to feel me out and get a rough idea of my skills, attitude and aptitude. Or at least, that's what I think. If not, it just means that they have no idea what to do with me!
It's a little frustrating because I'm feeling quite underworked and useless. And with every passing day that I don't do something productive, I feel the lethargy growing, like some odd species of vine that has clung to me and is now enveloping my body with its creepy tendrils.
There's also the lack of a social network and support system, something which I always thought I never needed - until I came here.
Back home, I always prided myself on being independent and not really needing anybody to really mollycoddle me. In my more fanciful moments, I imagined myself to be some heroic lone wolf character.
But, being displaced to a strange city in a strange country full of strange faces, I realise how important my social network is to me. I didn't feel it so much back at the university because I at that point had my comrades around me.
But now, as I come home to four grey walls and listening to the thundering silence of my mobile phone, I am beginning to understand loneliness.
Being so alone makes me realise how much the people I gather around me mean to me. Family...friends...without these people, it feels like I don't really have an identity. It's as if I cease to become myself when these people are no longer beside me.
Yet, it's also beautiful in a way. But it's a kind of terrible, consuming beauty. Why? Well, this solitude leaves you with nothing but your thoughts. And if a person can't live alone with his thoughts, then that person is damned. But if he can, then he is truly at peace.
Soon, I'll start knuckling down to work. Soon, I'll start making friends. But for now, I'm alone and it's an interesting experience.