wrestling my homeland
i’ve always been proud of where i come from.
puerto rico is the most beautiful place i’ve been. the reason why i love new orleans so much is because it reminds me of home. the people and the culture… these are the things that make my island so wonderful, and i can catch glimpses of these when i visit new orleans.
i love to show people where i’m from. when i’m away, i gush about my love affair with puerto rico until it makes me so homesick i need to plan my next trip back. when friends visit, i plan out their trips so that i can show them every place that — and every person who — has made me who i am.
but, there’s something to be said for all the lonely nights i’ve spent staring at the stars outside my window, listening to the coquí frogs. visiting home is like revisiting a quiet depression that slowly sinks into my skin. being home makes me feel small. and, the longer i stay, the smaller i feel until, suddenly, there is no place left for me in the world.
people don’t get why i’m never entirely excited about coming home. they can’t understand how a person could be upset to visit paradise. i know it’s difficult to grasp, especially when the people who ask come from places that they believe to be uninteresting. but there is a sadness i associate with being home, and it hits me like a punch to the stomach every time i’m here.
i love you, puerto rico. you are the most amazing place i know. but wrestling with you in my mind will always be a part of me, and the most difficult thing i will ever have to struggle with.