dear domestic kids do not come around complaining to me about how your parents failed to send you a care package this month. i might seriously contemplate kicking your ass.
my mother has never sent a care package a day in her life and its not because she cant send one it is because to send a care package the size that yall get every month she might as well fly me back home.
i am forced to rely on my God in heaven to send a family friend, hell even a friend of a friend of a coworker my way at least once in a semester who doesnt mind carrying shito and cerelac in their suitcase knowing the risk involved when facing american customs officers.
dear domestic kids do not whine to me about how your parents have not visited you this semester. my father in all my four years has yet to visit me do you see me shedding tears NO you see me putting in the fucking work to prove that the faith with which he sent me off to college with will never fade and is never in vain.
my spirit is weary and my heart is beyond broken. i wake up everyday feeling like a part of me is oceans away and yet i get up, struggle through the day trying to cover up my accent and my cultural mannerisms while still trying to keep my heritage intact. you dont know the fucking half of it.
i am absolutely blessed to be able to afford to go home twice a year when most dont. i dont know what i would do if i didnt go home as often as i do. i dont think i would be a living breathing organism if i didnt go home as often as i do.
so when im having a fucking bad day respect it. respect that you will never understand half of the pain but try, try to be aware of the struggle. it is not a myth and its not fucking easy to deal with. sure at the end of the day it was my choice and its not your fault (or mine for that matter) that i didnt realize what i was getting into when i decided to live so far away but respect that im powering through this the best i can. im trying the best i fucking can. just tell me that my best is enough.