InsaneJournal

Current mood:	sad
Entry tags:	about me

On Immigration As Exile
There's nothing like seeing pictures of where you grew up online, and feeling like some appropriating stranger, because you're trying so hard to fit your memories to pictures and your memories are fifteen to twenty years or more old.

It's at once a part of me, and something not of me and it's confusing as hell. Especially because I could reach out to strangers who have blogs talking about the area I grew up, and the traditions, including themselves as part of it. But I'm not sure I want the feeling of belonging and family like that, more than the feeling of family I've created.

Though, is it that I don't want the stress of being watched? Or is it I don't want the pain of being rejected, for being me, being gay and speaking up about mental illness?

This place, these people helped form what I think of as beauty and effort and determination. Intellectually I know they're a part of me. But I touch the photos on the screen and I cry, because I know they're also not.