I’ve been back for less than a week and I already want to leave — everything here is dirty, grey, and sad. I want to go back to the countryside, but I can’t, I CAN’T AND IT’S MAKING ME SICK!!! I want to go home, I want to go back home. I take too much medication when I’m here, I’m sad and lonely
I can’t take it anymore
Time flies when you’re actually living, I suppose. I miss the person I used to be, though I’m not sure I’d return to her.
Leaving behind the chaos of my parents in Taiwan during my teenage years
with no one waiting for me in Paris
was an act of quiet bravery I couldn’t yet name. The pain back then was too vast to carry, and somehow, starting from zero at nineteen felt lighter than staying in the wreckage of it all.
