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On Friday morning Jaime and I caught a train from Brussels to Bruges. As we desperately read signs and had to have a janitor point out which platform our train would be coming on I was comforted in knowing that there is not something wrong with me or some magical secret that I just don't get: no one knows what they're doing. ...

I realize I'm probably being unfair. That all I talk about is how hard things are and how miserable I am and how lonely I am. And how much I just want to go home. But, really, I know my life right now is pretty amazing. And I wish I could appreciate that more. But every time I think I'm coming around and am happy with how things are, something happens to deter me. Like when a man comes up to me on the street at night and asks a question and then won't leave me alone and follows me and...