I went home to my home country for two short weeks expecting an escape that I was familiar with. Where I live, I can hear the voices in my head but where I went, I heard none of it. Somehow, I just don’t feel as alone as I do when I’m at my actual home. My thoughts swallow me whole and life jabs at me.
The short feeling of those two weeks brought me a bit of my escape, but it wasn’t enough. And having been back for three days now, I feel more alone than when I left. I always feel this way when I’m not sure of where I’m going. I always return to my first steps to find out where my next one will be. This is the first where I wish I could just step into the best part of my life and stop there… because I can’t take the journey, I don’t wish to take the journey to get there. I have more I want to do and this path I’ve taken was never something I wanted to step into, but here I am making decisions not for myself, but for the idea that someday I’ll be able to let go of the baggage of my family to live for myself. And I realize now, I just want to step into that part of my life where I can live for me and no one else. I’ll take the journey where I don’t have to care about how my decisions will affect the future of my family- I’m still only 22, but I feel like I’ve lived too long… too long and alone with a heartache.