you know when it really comes down to it, i truly do prefer typing my feelings than writing them. don’t get me wrong i still write them down in my journal because i want to but i’m more at ease with a keyboard underneath my fingers. It’s just so much easier to get my thoughts down before i have to recall them again since i write so slowly and writing too quickly alway cramps my hands.
So, here i am alone in my aunt’s house. Each relative sleeping and doing their own thing in their own rooms except me, who is actually laying flat out in front of the living room.
i’ve always said how much korea makes me realize what to appreciate in america and now i remember clearly, it makes me appreciate things because of how miserable i am here.
i miss looking at the stars through the window behind my bed, i miss seeing the clouds being swept away by the winds, i miss not being bumped into a thousand times with no ‘i’m sorry’ or ‘excuse me’. i miss being able to walk outside and smell fresh clean air. i miss having my own room, with all of my pencils and art supplies. i miss having my own bed, sleeping on the floor is something you can get tired of pretty quickly. i miss the uniqueness that is everywhere in america. Here, everywhere you look, everyone looks the same. And i’m not trying to be racist or anything either.
Today my brother and my mom left to go back to america and i really wanted to go with them. It’s been raining here ever since I’ve arrived. At first i thought of it as just normal rain. But the more and more it rained, the more and more i looked out and saw, not falling drops, but a huge blanket that’s been cast over the city. It made me feel so terribly anxious and small. The buildings all covered by the smog and ‘clouds’ looked so tiny, then what about me? and in those moments where i thought those consuming thoughts i would think about the world and how strange it was that i was on the other side of Earth from where i was not only a few weeks ago. Everything was so small and i felt like everything i did and everything i was did not matter and i had to stop myself from thinking anymore because i was sweating and my heart was beating really fast in the backseat of my mom’s friend’s car.