Once upon a time, living in a different country took my breath away. I loved the colors, the smells, the men, all of it made my heart beat faster. Even though more often than not, I had no clue as to what was going on around me, I loved it. By not understanding the language, everyone talking simply became background noise. I listened to what I wanted, and if I didn’t, I simply tuned it out. It only took nine months, and I was in love with this different country. The people around me made it all worth the pain and confusion and trouble. But isn’t that something that comes with being in love? Well eventually I left that different country to go home as a different person. The different culture had been beaten into me, and grown as a seed would in fertile soil. This place that had once been home seemed different now. All I had wanted was to not be the different girl, but yet it seemed whether I was in a different country or a different home, I was the different girl.
So at one point I stepped away from it all to form my own little world. And now that I’m leaving it, I can’t help but wonder if it’s a step forward, or a step back.