Leaving home never gets easy. Your heart physically aches to be back. There are days when you want to run to the airport and get on the first flight home. You think it’ll get easier. But, it’s the same after one year, and it’s been the same after five. You only teach yourself ways to cope.
When you speak to your friends back home, you try and express what it feels like—like carrying two worlds inside you—like living a painful paradox. But, their eyes look at you with mocking derision. “Seriously woman,” they seem to say. “You live in United States of America, in a city like New York, you earn in dollars, you seem to have a pretty awesome life. I’d switch places, any fucking day.”
“Any day you pick,” my eyes whisper back.
