We left the day after my 7th birthday party. I wasn’t worried about goodbyes that day… I couldn’t possibly imagine that that day would be the last time I saw some of the people that mattered most to me. That was the best day of my life, so why would I picture the next day as anything different?
A lot of people might say I’m not an immigrant, but I do not believe anyone can label me except for me. Americans don’t consider me an American because I have Brazilian pride and don’t look the part. My parents don’t consider me a Brazilian because I didn’t grow up the same way they did, and all the other Brazilians treat me like a “gringa”. The amount of pain that I feel because I do not fit in any box is immense because I never feel at home. In the United States, I feel like a Brazilian. And in Brazil, I feel like an American. No matter which place I’m at, I always feel like a part of me is missing.
In the United States, I miss my family, my support system, my friends, and what I call my childhood dream. I miss my family and I have guilt every day that I took my mom and dad away from their families. I feel guilty that I’m missing out on my little cousins’ life. I miss the support that my family and the community around me gave me. I miss my old school and the friends that I loved. It angers me that I am distancing myself away from everyone because it just makes me have more to miss and more pain to suffer. To this day, every time I come back to the United States from Brazil I cry as the plane takes off. I cry because I always wonder; What if I never left?
