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Brick wall

When I was 5 years old I emigrated to America. Previously I lived in the Republic of Georgia. A country next to Armenia and Turkey. I’m 18 years old right now and I am completely lost.

Everyone thinks it’s so interesting that I’m a foreigner but they don’t understand the pain immigrants go through. I guess they can empathize but it’s something most Americans will never experience.

For a long time I resented the fact that I was born in a different country than my friends. The fact that I was such an outsider. And there’s so much that my parents would never tell. I don’t really even like thinking about it. When something is so unpleasant your mind tries to block it out, I think that’s what happens to me because I can’t remember much even though I should.

This whole thing is such a messy topic, it’s really hard to write about.

I often wonder what my life would be like if my parents weren’t brave enough to move to a new country. Where would I be? What would my life be like? Would I be happy or would I be another desperate girl trying to come to America. It bothers me that I’m living so many girls’ dreams but its a nightmare to me. I don’t really feel accepted in my own country either. Americans see me as Georgian but Georgians see me as American.

As of right now I’m at a brick wall and I can’t seem to get over it but once I do hopefully I can finally be happy.

This post was submitted by Tina.

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