Personal Narrative: Moving To Syria

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I don 't have a home. I don 't have anywhere I can go and tell myself “I fit in.” All my life I have been travelling around the world unable to develop a home.
My life was a book.Except, each chapter was ripped out of a different book and put together to create an unpredictable storyline. I despised it. Not knowing what lied ahead, the different unfamiliar cultures and faces kept me anxious. However, the chapter where I move to Syria would change this. I would be lying if I said that my judgement was pure and kind towards the people of Syria. Hard headed, closed minded and opinionated is only a fraction of what I thought of them. They will not accept me. The thought stuck like superglue. No force could tear this idea away.
Moments during school in Damascus was teeth clenching and
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That’s when nothing happened. No words of disgust or hate. Only a mere comment was made of how war is wrong. Later on in the years when my mother would reminisce of Syria, she would tell me that they sympathised with both America and Japan.That the only anger was towards war itself. How could I have been so foolish to think they were unaccepting and closed minded when it was me all along?I realised that I had become the person I always feared to meet.They should have feared me.
The experience in Syria was a great epiphany to judge myself before others.
Ever since, I always kept in mind that the negative preconceived ideas I have of others, is a reflection of who I am on the inside. Now, I allow myself to enjoy new experiences with a clear mind, not one polluted with negativity.
I don 't have a place to call home. I don 't have anywhere to go back to where I can tell myself “I fit in.” Instead, I was given the chance to become a better person by meeting new people, growing in the environment of different cultures and learn lessons I cannot back “home”.I get to go out into the world and receive the chance to tell myself “ My difference is celebrated
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