It took five years for me to cry over American or Canadian English,to flip out when I find Honey Nut Cheerios in a grocery store. It took five years for me to cry sitting on a mall floor, at the sight of shoes I know people in Canada would wear.
The intensity of longing and desire, of yearning and of miss, derives from the length of time they have been felt.
I laugh at this. I embrace it. I am in love with it.
It is a part of me now. I will not always miss this.More importantly I will not always miss like this.
So even though this breaks me, even though this aches, even though I crave English interaction so much I talk to myself almost every day at lunch,
it is beautiful.
It stuns me.
The simplicity of it all.
More than half of my friends, will never feel like this. More than half, have not lived abroad, let alone for five years.
I accept that it will forever make me different. That those friends I had, will not understand.
I accept that now, maybe my selection of future friends will have to have had simliar experiences to this, thus slimming the amount of friends I find and connect with.
I will take a hold of this and run with it.
For to deny change at such a level, is a hopeless solution.
I will only be weak because of it. And if I am weak, how will my future friends confide in me or find solace? How good of a friend will I really be?