So much to say, where to begin?
I’ve always been a restless person. You know, the kind that knows there’s something more to do, see, or experience out there—so when I tell you that I’ve been raised entirely in the Southern United States, you might be able to understand why I feel trapped.
So I got away. I ran to Japan for a month, loving every second of my awkward exposure there. It felt more like home than my birthplace ever did, as if just that month was more comfortable than the whole life I’ve lived elsewhere. But where my comfort begins, others stop.
I’m engaged.
We’ve had such a long courtship. Almost six years worth of being in each others lives, families, hearts. I feel drawn to this place, this land of the rising opportunity and change while my partner clings to our apartment, our family, our city. We live half an hour away from family and my partner feels that even this is too far. Loving this quiet person is almost a curse. This almost phobic shyness of people holds me back. It makes me feel like I have to settle when I could be winning at life.
I’m sick of running with this sandbag of a person tied to my legs, but I can’t leave because it’s so painful to be alone. Without… him.
Do I do what feels right for me, or do I stay because I love him?
I left my home country because I wanted to see more of the world after staying in my home town for too long. I ended up on the other side of the world to stay here for months and months but realized that everything I have at home is way better than everything else. I have great friends and a great family. I also met a girl I wanted to get to know better right before I left and I now spend a lot of my day just thinking of her. We’re trying to keep connected and I hope we’ll spend a lot of time together once I get home. It scares me that she might find someone else while I’m gone… If you don’t risk anything, you won’t gain anything… Everyone should travel for a longer period of time to learn to appreciate what they have.
I have been everywhere, but I can’t find a home for myself. I know that family and my heart is where home is, but I want my own home where I’m happy at and with what I have in my life. I broke off a couple of engagements and ran away to where nobody knew me. Still, I can’t find it. Some say that’s because I’m coming from a broken home but that isn’t it. It is that because I see people are willing to chase their dreams but the question is how do they find them without the future telling us?
I came here (to America) to bring a cancer patient for treatment.
After two months of treatment he went home.
He slept in his own bed that night.
The next morning he was gone.
Whenever I’m home alone, I like to dress up like Lady Gaga. High heels, a leotard, sunglasses… the whole thing.
I just moved to Ann Arbor last week. I have lived in Kuwait, Egypt, Jordan, New York, Connecticut, and Pennsylvania. Whenever people ask me where “home” is I never know how to answer. The idea of going “home,” or being “home” is completely foreign to me. People always say they can’t wait to go home. I love moving place to place so much and meeting new people. I never want to go home. I only want to keep moving.
I hate everything and the feeling is mutual for the most part. I want to go out and find my home. I want to find where I belong. I’m starting to think it might be nowhere.