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Wednesday, October 31


And I know. I know I always complained about them. I know I always wanted out. I know I felt like I was suffocating, like I was being stifled, like I would never be my own person.

But you can't go on feeling that way for 18 years, move away from it all, and not feel like you're missing something. Because beyond all of the overbearing rules, antsy children who begged for attention, and shitty obligations that never ended, they were my family. They are my family. And they were always, always there. No matter what. Even if I wanted them anywhere but there. They were there.

And how can I go from being constantly surrounded, constantly teased, constantly called for, to this? To this silent life that is all about me? I do what I want. When I want it. With whom I want to do it with. I eat what I want to eat and nap when I want to nap. I wear what I want to wear and listen to what I want to listen to.

But I would give so much. So much. Just to hear my mom's voice yelling at me to "turn that American garbage down." Or to "Stop being picky and eat something already." Or to "Go straight back into the bathroom and change into something decent before Dad wakes up."

Because I miss them. And I don't know what to do. Because maybe, maybe, when I wanted to be myself and be my own person, I was forgetting the most important part of me: My family.

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