I can’t sleep. During the day I’m tired. At night I’m awake,
I’m not hungry, I just want to drink.
I don’t have money. I want to be alone.
The magical image of Europe with colorful shops and delicious foods overwhelming me, feeling refreshed and stress-free, is gone.
I’m here. I’m exactly the same as back home. The minutes feel like hours and the hours are days.
During the day I want to cry. I want to run off to a café and sit by myself and read in a corner with a coffee.
I want to sit in a park and draw. I want to go to thrift stores and buy native clothing and fit in and fade to the background.
I miss you more than you can believe, I beg that you don't forget me.