I recently moved to Europe, away from family, friends and everything I held dear. To live on my own. In a country I haven’t visited before, with a language I don’t understand and a culture I’m not familiar with.

This massive change brought a set of challenges and discomforts. But I’m also experiencing something I haven’t fully embraced before.

Solitude. Space to reflect. Time to understand myself. Opportunity to raise questions and find answers. Though the answers aren’t always what you expect.

I grew up fascinated with unknown and lost in imagination. Stories captivated my soul. I heard them, read them and wrote my own. All without the lust for money.

Then I was intoxicated by sports. I dreamt about playing professional cricket. A few years later and all I talked about was professional wrestling. Then back and forth between writing and sports. The boat of my passion turned towards programming in late teens. That has been the life for past decade.

I’ve found myself in conflicted state more times than I’d like. I want one thing but my actions speak the opposite. I bash myself for not being original. Whatever the heck that means. The biggest goal I had in past few years is accomplished. I’ve moved to a beautiful country, unlimited possibility of experiences and work that contributes to something bigger.

I must face the music once again. The most daunting question echoing in cold dark nights. What now? What’s the life I want?

The short answer is I want what I don’t have. The life I want is the life you have. At least until I experience the price it requires. Then back to admiring someone else unreachable. The long answer? Well.

We’re told to answer our calling, not follow the herd and be ourselves. But who are we if not a reflection of our upbringing and what we observed being admired around us?

If a child grows up watching their respected dad praise paintings with every breath, should we be surprised if he turns into an adult lucid dreaming about producing the next Mona Lisa? Can we say that’s who he truly is?

Who am I? What’s my passion? I’ve tormented and tortured myself over this question. I’m certain the feeling is shared by millions.

We’re a specie of billions, each made with trillions of cells, surrounded by never ending stream of possibilities. Isn’t it pretentious to expect that we have one true invisible passion waiting for us? And once we attain the knowledge and follow it religiously, everything will fall into place?

If my entire life revolves around a couch, how can I tell if acting isn’t what I yearn for? How do I know if I’m meant to run marathones? When I think about it deep enough, the destructive effects of this illusion unveil themselves.

How many opportunities squandered because “that’s not who you are”? How many projects half assed? How many hours of wasted life waiting for “the click” and motivation to achieve greatness? The undeniable reality stares at us in disbelief.

Move. Experience life. Break out of the bubble. If you want someone’s life, go find the sacrifices they’ve made and the daily price they pay. You won’t need a magic ball to answer if that’s what you want.