Bold as Brass (Emotional Overdrive)

I am eighteen. In many of the books I read, "eighteen" seems to be the age where young women leave their mothers with only a single tear and drive away with a broad smile. A time where females are no longer called children, teenagers, or young adults, but women. In their fashionable purses, there must contain lipstick, a fashion magazine, perfume, morning after pills, cigarettes, and whatever young women of the century must contain in their mysterious bags.

I am eighteen. In my worn backpack, a glasses case, a sketchbook, a lollipop, gum, and candy wrappers take refuge. The thought of being separated from family, especially from the comfort of my mother, brings me into such a melancholic state. If I am plucked from her arms, where will I be placed? Who will corrupt me? Will my heart be broken?

My mind tells me that I will be placed into a vortex of nothing, a vast expanse of the unknown, a future where everything is unpredictable. And in that black hole comes a gift I suppose. Independence? 

Sometimes, I want to run deep into the forest and create my own hermitage. 

This summer, I have been in my home country (it's been four years) and it felt odd to say the words "grandmother" and "grandfather". And to speak my mother tongue– it was as if marbles were put in my mouth. My memories have been refreshed and my heart warms when I see my grandpa smile and grandma laugh, yell "I'm home grandma!", I hear my language, I see familiar people, and I am loved. I hear the murmur of my grandparents speaking between the walls. The summer humidity lasts till midnight (and beyond) and I can hear the conversation of multiple cicadas. 

And now I must leave a place that I have just called home. Will I ever see all of these people again? My grandfather cries every time we depart the country and I can't help but to let my tears flow. He doesn't weep at the sight of us leaving, but at the thought that he might never see us again. 

Scared. So scared. The future is unpredictable and my nerves of steel melt easily. After I leave this land and return back home, I only have one more week to spare. Then, I travel to my final destination for more "higher education", otherwise known as college–aiyaiyai *sigh*.

Memory keeper, please let this first message be a testament of change. It will be good; I will feed you my secrets.

P.S. it better be good.