Foreign.
Different.
Constantly.
Longing to be "normal".
Always.
She rarely belongs.
But oh, how she wishes she did.
She is always an alien.
A man once said to her in friendly joking, "What are you doing here? This isn't your country."
She smiled, but inside her heart sighed, "Where is my country?"
"Where do I call home?"
Foreign.
A love/hate relationship surrounds this word.
A wish to be ordinary.
But a longing for the exotic.
Her ears perk up at the mention of faraway lands.
Of accented tones.
Of spicy foods.
Of cultural music.
Of differing skin colors.
She bonds with those who also have no definite belonging.
Those who also wish for the foreign.
Bored with the typicalness of everyday life, she wishes for adventure on foreign soil.
For a dive into another's life.
For an experience different than her own.
Not to be foreign.
But to be in a foreign place.
Not to be the outsider.
But to be outside her own world.
Foreign.
Always.