Tears started rolling down my face as I sat in the alley. The sky seemed to cry along with me as snowflakes drifted down from above. The sun was already setting, and the snow became a sheet of gold. Shivering, I sat there as the stars came out to dance across the beautiful Chengdu sky. I had to go. Leave everything I’ve ever known. I had applied to Iowa State University many months ago with so much eagerness to leave, to explore the world. Now, it was different, I couldn’t go, or I didn’t want to leave. It was the feeling I always had when I had to go—the terror of having to leave the familiar. On top of the dangerous world outside, I was just the caged bird in China.

I was the bird with the purple and blue eyes, constantly inside and outside of everything simultaneously. I was always the best in what I did. Well, not really. I worked hard. However, I never really fit in. They treated me like I was dangerous. Everyone believed I was some demon, with two-colored eyes, an absurdly smart one at least. I was something to be avoided. Now I could leave this horrible place, but I didn’t want to go. My parents had insisted I take much of the family coffers, money they had worked their entire lives to make. They insisted I go, and I couldn’t bring myself to disagree. I left a week later, traveling to the airport, escorted each step by my father. As I stepped through the airport doors, I knew I had entered a new world, away from everything I loved.

— A middle school writing assignment inspired by my mother’s story.

Cover Photo by Michael Held on Unsplash