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My Experience At The United States Of America

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When I was little, around six years old, some of my acquaintances fantasised of being princesses while others dreamed of being police officers or knights. My notion was not as preposterous as theirs, but almost as out of reach; I wanted to study in the United States of America, better said I wanted to move there. Growing up in a relatively small town, where everyone seemed to share the same principles once they got past their childhood virtuous, I felt stuck.
Once again, I was a dreamer, forever stuck in the what ifs scenarios of my own imagination. Hence, I was not contented, I wanted to experience the world outside of those city walls, the cities I saw and heard about on TV, I wanted to experience a different world, because I simply reckoned that everything would get better once I left. As I got older, those dreams, of moving aboard and starting all over, only got more insane. On some days, where I felt like my world was breaking apart again, I came home, crying and begging my mom to take a job aboard. To be honest, I had yet to learn about visa restrictions and all the social security benefits that Germany, as compared to international standards, had. In other words, my mom quickly made me realise that I had to wait for College to finally leave the city behind. This, nevertheless, did not stop me from divulging it to everyone around me. While my classmates always reaffirmed me as dewy-eyed, adults simply labeled it as the guileless state of reverie.
At the end of the

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