If you ask me where I am from, you must love long stories – I do not have one answer; I do not know how I can begin finding that answer. I am cursed, I feel sometimes. Just as soon as I call a place home, circumstances force me to leave it behind. I should feel nothing after my umpteenth relocation; but I do.
I am just as bewildered every time. I recreate my sense of belonging – like a chameleon, I change my colors to escape something and become something else. Each time I am left with an emptiness in place of my answer to the ‘where am I from’ question – nowhere, everywhere, somewhere, anywhere.