As I got off the plane to smell the hot California breeze I coud already tell this wasnt like home. The place where everyones so nice and welcoming. To this place: people who don't even want to see your face. This is nothing like Brazil. I honestly don't know how I can take this. Will my accent be too strong on some? Will anyone like me? Will they hate me? I start to drown in a pool of my own deathly thoughts.
"Trish come on, you don't want to get left behind" my mother calls to me halfway across the airport. "Are you certain about that" Im mumble to myself as I watch my feet as i walk across the floor that would make an OCD person flip out. Home. thats all that I can think about. My friends. My teachers. the surroundings. the-
"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING ASSHOLE" A girl i have no idea who screams and spits all over my pale face
The nice people.
