I keep looking for belonging, and I can't find it. I know in my mind that I should feel like I belong, but in my heart I don't. My language, my country, my people, my family. Everything changed, and changed again, and every time I think I found it, it escapes me. I keep searching. Why do I keep searching? It's exhausting. Why can't I stop? Why can't I be content with what I have? Something is missing. It's like I don't have roots and simply drift. I don't have history. Don't have traditions. I change and adapt like a chameleon and I keep changing, keep looking for a new color. Maybe this will be it. No. Then maybe this. No, not this either.  

It is perhaps the pain of every immigrant, to give up the place of birth and to wander to new places only to miss the old, the faraway, the familiar.