I always felt “out of place”, for as long as I can remember.
At first, I didn’t think much about the differences. I had just arrived and was barely discovering this world. But it didn’t take long to realize it was more hell than paradise on earth.
Maybe it’s because of the way my parents raised me—unfiltered, always telling me the truth no matter how hard it was. I was curious about everything and preferred “debating” with adults or building imaginary worlds and forts in the woods to playing at the playground.
By the age of five, I already knew about the Holocaust and Hiroshima. I even created my first petition to stop the use of nuclear energy, which terrified me. You get the picture—I was on my own from the start.
Elementary school only made it worse. I went to a private school filled with rich kids while my father waited at the bus stop after dropping me off because we didn’t have a car. We weren’t totally poor, but life was built on making choices. So once again, I was out of place—and I paid a heavy price for it. It didn’t exactly improve my impression of humans.
Middle and high school were different. I was the typical outcast—think Kat from 10 Things I Hate About You. But maybe I was “popular in an unpopular way.” I didn’t mind. Most of my friends were outside school anyway, and all I wanted was to study hard so I could finally realize my dreams.
University felt like the Holy Grail at last—a place where my mind and the way I processed life could actually be used and celebrated. I still disliked most of my peers and half my teachers, but for once, being myself paid off.
That’s when I met Daiki. I was 21. We were opposites, but somehow it worked perfectly. It felt like coming home. All those years of feeling off, of wondering why I was still alive, of pushing through—I think it was all leading me to him.
Fast forward to today, and I’m used to being the weird one. Being a foreigner in a strange land almost justifies it now. Nothing feels worse than being at odds with the world when you’re at “home.”
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