I departed from home in search of a place where I truly belonged, surrounded by people with whom I shared a sense of belonging. The familiar place of my upbringing ceased to feel like home. Contrary to Dorothy’s assertion, there were not only places similar to home but even better. This is not a criticism of my family; it’s an acknowledgment that I had discovered a place far superior to my Kansas.

Leaving home, I established a career, pursued higher education, found the love of my life, and became a proud car owner. Enjoying the independence I craved, away from the remote countryside, I had everything I desired—no, everything I needed. Then, I returned home to find nothing. A bustling population of almost 200,000 reduced to less than 1000. My critique of my hometown isn’t rooted in negativity; it simply wasn’t the right fit for me.

Having become a PC Technician and pursued a college education, I found myself lost in the middle of nowhere, transitioning from one unsatisfying job to another, regretting the decisions that brought me back. Perhaps, this marked the onset of my depression.

Amidst this darkness, a flicker of light emerged. I wasn’t entirely alone; one of my closest friends lived nearby. This friendship provided solace during mundane jobs—playing Diablo, watching movies, and hanging out at bars with friends. Despite these distractions, one undeniable truth persisted: this wasn’t where I belonged.

Repeatedly telling myself that I despised my job and yearning to walk away and sleep off the frustration, I reached a point where I called a friend on the west coast. I inquired if their open invitation still stood. Within a week, I initiated the process of organizing my life—far from where I shouldn’t be and closer to where I believed I belonged.