I bought six new books last night. it felt incredibly good to be walking home with a bag full of new books waiting for me to read them. I stopped at the waterfront, just like almost every day, sat on the bench with a water bottle. I stared at the island, thinking of all the things going on right now.
one of the books I bought is about refugees from around the world, but mainly from bosnia and croatia. I’m not sure what I am feeling. I feel like every name mentioned in there is someone I know personally, every time banja luka is mentioned it’s like someone stabs me. a girl next to me is saying something in cantonese with fake nails on her fingers. of course, I am not able to relate to it. but it’s too familiar, too real and too close. too personal.
I feel like an outsider but my passport says something else. I never knew I was fighting a battle until it was over. I can’t even remember whether they ever told me this is not the place you were born in. it feels like I have just always known I am a stranger. I’ve accepted the title of a child of this planet only because it’s easier than to try and identify with people. with nations and cultures. I say I don’t have a home, my home is everywhere. but I think I am just bullshitting myself, not wanting to deal with things, because it might be a little too personal. and yet I am doing my extended essay on the Srebrenica massacre. everything is a lie.
what am I really thinking?
even more often I say I don’t care. but I do care. I care more than anything else. I think about these things, I stay awake go through personal experiences of other people. hoping I might find something that will bring me a little closer to an answer. but I don’t even know what I am asking. people think I am somehow advantaged by being able to be everywhere, by wanting to be everywhere. but what they don’t realize that most of the time I am just ambivalent to the changes of locations. sometimes I wish I could just have a straight answer when someone asks me where are you from? and if not that, well then at least what do you most feel like? but still I secretly hate it.
ambivalent, have I mentioned that?