I haven’t been here in ten years. I have seen my family here in so long. I had forgotten how things were over here. I had been told so much had changed, but I don’t see the difference.
The first day here, yesterday I arrived, I got homesick for the first time. I missed my friends. I thought about the things that had been left unfinished. I missed my bed, and everything that was familiar. This was a new place; a place I hadn’t been in so long. I’ve grown up since then…but I felt like a child missing my own bed.
Upon arriving, I didn’t recognise half the people who came to pick me up. I didn’t know their faces, their names, even just their relation to me. These were suppose to be my family. But I guess that saying, “Blood doesn’t always mean family, and family doesn’t always mean blood”, can come into play.
I don’t feel like I belong here. Then again I don’t most of the time anyway….
Vietnam…Vietnamese…I didn’t realise how broken my vietnamese is until it has become the only language people can understand, therefore the only language you can basically speak here. How I dress is different, being in my own regular clothes. how I hold myself is different, how I speak is different, not being use to speaking the regular tongue…everything about me is different than the people here. I’m not saying it’s a bad ‘different’…I just feel out of place and very unwanted here.
I can’t wait to get home…but first, I’ll give this place a chance.