Every exchange's low.

  Here it comes. They specifically warned me about this. They told me to prepare myself for when it hits. 'Be ready' they warned. It's the whiplash. It's the recoil when you fire a 12-gauge shotgun. It's the pain you get when you belly-flop from a 5 meter springboard into the pool. Cause every good feeling has an equally shitty one. And for awhile now, I've been having it good. Too good. Even if they made it clear, I still didn't believe them. Chuckled and shrugged it off. I thought this year was only going to be beer and pretty girls. Never have I been so mislead.

  An exchange programme is like a game of high-stakes poker. High profits. High risks. High losses. And once you place your bets, there ain't no backing out. Only difference is, instead of money, you're betting with your all. Everything. Your time. Your efforts. Your body. Your emotions. It's all on the line in an exchange programme. You're throwing yourself into the far end, where only your choices and wit can save you. And like any bet, you win some, you lose some.

  Out here, you own nothing. No family. No lovers. No friends. Nothing but the clothes on your back and the toiletries you brought along with you. Even the family you stay with, they can drop you like a sack of potatoes at a moment's notice. Send you packing to another family crazy enough to shelter you. There's no comfort zone. Every place another violation. There is no refuge. A small slip-up can well ruin your day and send you running into your room, crying for mummy, only she isn't there. No one is.

  The volunteers in Malaysia, they described it as a roller-coaster. A high-low trade kinda deal. Where the highs scrape the skies and the lows could literally break you, with all the little loopy-doops in between that churns you from the inside-out. There isn't a doubt in my mind, that the best and the worst experiences that I've had so far are all crunched up into these measly 10 months. From feeling the warm touch of young love, to being socially alienated, it's all here. All part of the package.

  Truthfully, there are days where I wish I never chose to come here at all. When strangers make fun of me and keep yelling 'Ni Hao' while slitting their eyes. When my classmates don't talk to me and leave me to sit alone in a class I barely understand. When my guest parents and I argue about house rules and how it should be carried out. On these days, I just feel like jumping on a plane back home where I'll proceed to hug my parents and enjoy a meal of Grandma's home-cooked food.

  But no matter how low it gets, no matter how shitty or worthless I feel right now, I know for a fact there'll be another high waiting for me at the horizon. And it's gonna feel like sunshine and chocolate cakes when I get there. I just have to wait it out. Wait out the storm. Momma told me time and time again 'Smooth seas never make a skillful sailor.' This'll be the last storm before we hit harbor. The last storm before we hit home.