Is the mountain's fresh air getting to me?

I tear up every time I leave Goa.

Life is so different from what I imagined it would be back in college. I can't stress enough how different people are, and not just how different I have become, for the better, of course. Life is not bad; it's half-decent, but just not what 22-year-old me thought it would be like.

Goa is my innocence. I was a naive little kid, drinking, eating fries, and having fun. Oh, and cheese garlic naan. Can't forget cheese garlic naan. Goa and BITS, they are home. They hold so much and have given me so much. I am indebted forever. People often ask me, 'It's been three years since I graduated, and I am still that excited to go back.' It's just a different world there, a different time, a familiar yet different feeling.

Recently, I have been exploring the mountains, going trekking, sitting by the streams, driving through those clouds—the whole thing. And I have to say, it's wonderfully different. I have been on a couple of trips, and I had a lot of fun, to the point that I began contemplating if I liked the mountains better. Was the fresh air really getting to me?

But being back in Goa, I realized the mountains may be exciting and thrilling, but the beach will always have my heart. I might be moving on and exploring new things, places, and opportunities, and in time, the memories might fade a little, but they will always be a part of me. The people, the places, the outings, the memories, but not the fries. Working hard to get rid of the fries here, people. They make me who I am.