Mom & Dad,

Tell me what’s worse - sitting miserably, wishing you could live the life of your dreams, or living your dreams and realizing you’re just as miserable as you were before? ’Cause I used to think it was the first one, and that the depression that came with this town was holding me down, keeping me back from living my life. Now I realize you can’t outrun sadness. And you know what the stupidest part is? Everything is exactly what I dreamed. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s perfect. And for some reason, I’m still sitting here, getting tearstains on this letter to you. This is the first time in my life I don’t know what I want, because I chased my dream - packed my bags, hopped on a plane, the whole thing - and I’m not any happier than I was before. Worse, even. You know, if this isn’t it, where else am I gonna go? What else am I gonna do? This is my only dream, and it’s not enough for me, I guess. But the real kicker is this: I can’t even call it a day and come back home, because the only thing that kept me going before was dreaming my dreams, and some days that wasn’t even enough. Now, I’m all out of dreams. I’ve got nothing left but you two, and for some reason, I’m over here and you’re over there. I’m not really sure why I’m not in my bed at home right now. You know, I haven’t slept comfortably in this bed for two months. And at this point, I’m kinda feeling like the relief of crawling back into my bed at home would outweigh the shame. But I’m not gonna tell you that or send you this. I’m going to tell you I’m happy, because the one thing worse than realizing that living your dreams contains just as much harsh reality as everything else in life is telling your parents that. I can pretend I’m still a dreamer when I’m on the phone.

Love you so much,

It’s chaos, I know.

But it’s the place I call home.

You can say it’s an addiction.

But the internet is where I’m least alone.

They call it discord for a reason.

It hold more worth than just chats and calls and empty words.

It hold the things that make sure

that we are home

that we are family.

And yeah, it could be called insanity.

It’s definitely an addiction.

It’s been far too long, I miss them.

Each day, the clock ticks on,

and I fall away from fitting in.

The pieces used to fit together,

but the gap is getting smaller.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I hate you.

I love you.

I miss you.

Sweet chaos.

My home.

I miss you.

Beyond that horizon,

is a place I called home,

sitting here all alone,

looking outside in my room,

from this foreign land ,

second home.

As I wake up in the morning,

the seaview is refreshing,

as I start my busy day,

I close my eyes,

kneel down to pray,

thanks God for the calm night ,

and the beautiful day.

At night when the sun down

on the other side,

the twinkling of stars,cargo ships,

and building lights,

will brighten the dark night

with delight,

before I sleep I bow my head,

I thank the Lord for

the day well spent.

It’s funny how they tell you, when they first take you, how this is the New World.

This is the real society. These are real people. These are real skills.

Why wasn’t I real before?

I sit and watch my youth, full of shame with what I’ve become

-No -

With what they made me. Crafted me. Poured me into a mold. Cut my hair. Changed my clothes. Burned me. Beat me. Left me with nothing of who I was.

The loss of my native tongue.

The loss I carry on.

We never did anything wrong. We were just as real and civil.

Funny we’re the savages when they’re out seeking wars.

I’ll never forget, and I’ll never forgive.

There’ll never be enough for all the scars I still hide.

Even the ones that can’t be seen.

But never is a long time when you have nothing left.