I AM FROM…

Silence. Confusion. Dilemmas. I am from all over and nowhere. The guilt towards my parents, who think I abandoned my country. The joy what I feel every time I return to it. I am from all over and nowhere. The sooner you start your journeys, the more you lose. Or gain. Depends on how you feel when you say: I am from…

The beautiful disgrace of multiculturalism. Not knowing where you are from today. And the confusion of the possible answers in a few years from now. They envy you. You envy them. They see you travel. You see them settled. They see you experiencing. You see them being the rational. The different sides of the same spectrum - called: life.

I am from Eastern Europe. No, I am from Central Europe. Depends on which history book you studied. It is important. Actually, it is crucial. It helps you out when I say I am from Hungary. No, we are not Russians, but my parents were forced to learn Russians. I am free, my parents weren’t. I am on the move; my parents could not be even if they wanted to be.

I am from Western Europe. I am from the Benelux States. Depends on how you learned it. But no, actually I am not from there. I just live in Belgium, but I am far from it. And the distance just grows with each day.

I am from the Middle East. Or I am from Europe. Once again, depends on what you learned. I am from Israel. But, no, I am not Jewish, but I wouldn’t mind being one. I am not from Israel, but I would feel great saying that. My boyfriend is from Israel, so I guess, I am too, in a way.

I am from the USA. In my wildest dreams. I am from New York every night I dream. I am not from here, but I act like you because what is a daily routine for you, is a never-fading dream for me.

I am from all over and nowhere. I am not sure if I ever would be from anywhere and not just all over. But I am from Hungary, living in Belgium, with an Israeli man while dreaming of New York without a catch of breath.

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This story was written in New York during a writing class, and was chosen as the best prompt of the class. 

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