This is why I can't come back...

So, it's probably no secret that I don't really have a home. I have houses. I've spent a lot of time always trying to find a place that I could call my home and people that I could call my family. My mom tries so hard to make me think that her house is my home and that her family is my family. But I just wish that she would give up. Because they are not. She keeps denying the fact that I hate being here and that I don't like her husband or their daughter. But that is exactly what they are to me.

I don't think my mother understands that every time I say something along the lines of, "I'm not coming back here," and then she later does one of her, "Well why did you say that? You know I want you to always feel like this is your home..." speeches, I want to run out of the room. Or just shake her and say, "Get over the fact that I hate your house! I have and it would be great if you could to!" Both of my parents think that I like the other one more. But they fail to see that I dislike them both equally. But neither of their houses could ever be my home. And neither of their families could ever be mine. It's plain and simple and so I have always realized I must find my own family and home... but this is why.

My mother's ideal world closes people in too much where as my father's world pushes others out too much. Every time my Mom and I start talking about MIT she goes "you better not get caught up with those kids up there. Remember you're a Muslim going to MIT, not a person at MIT who happens to be Muslim." If you shove stuff down people's throats they are going to throw it up. That's the way the human body works. Sorry but it is. My father on the other hand tells me that I should go up there and worry about me and no one else. Sorry, but I love helping and lifting other people. It's kind of the main reason that I felt MIT would be the best fit for me. There isn't that get a head mentality that I'm sure my father wants me to have. But I don't have it, and I'm glad I don't.

Today, on the news they were talking about the Pope. And my little sister goes, "I hate the pope." I except my mother to tell her that she shouldn't say things like that but instead my mother just sits there and continues to eat her pancakes. In my head I'm like "WTF is wrong with these people?" So I ask Khadijah why she hates the pope and she goes, "I don't know I just do." After I glare at my mother for a little she goes, "Well you shouldn't hate the pope he is just a man." Alejandro talks a lot about brainwashing. Well Ale, this is brainwashing at it's best. When you get people to hate other people who they don't even know and they don't know why they hate them.

I can't be closed in. I can't be crazy Muslim and I can't be crazy anti-other people. Honestly, I have never felt closer to God than I do at this point in my life. I know He's there. And I'm sure that He's helping me through this. I can't come back here. I can't go back there either. It wouldn't be good for me. And it'd probably hurt them to see the road that I'm headed down.

Dear Mommy and Abu,
I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be. I'm sorry that I'm actually glad that I'm not what you wanted me to be. I'll take the sense you gave me and put it to good use. But there are somethings I just don't agree with. I never really fit in either of your homes. I hope that one day you two can be happy, apart and separate and be content with knowing that I'm happy. Sultan rarely calls, and I might be the same way. I'm sorry if this hurts you. But I'm not sorry for being me.

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