Here I am, starting at my racoon eyes in the mirror wondering about a “what if” that does not exist. Living far away from your click, your family, and everything you’re familiar with is so fucking hard sometimes that makes me gave up hope. Without hope, chaos will take over again to consume my emotional soul. This chosen exile makes me wanna question my choice of country so many times that I feel like I am in some sort of suspended limbo.
If only things would turn around, or I coul get my insides out to wash them(that’s a weird though) and make them feel better. Because when you grow up thinking you don’t belong there you jump into this nonstop journey to find something you don’t even know is there.
Here I am, staring at my racoon eyes wondering what if… Tomorrow will be different? What if that exile feeling never goes away?