I can’t say I’m American because, America won’t recognize me as American. But I can’t say I’m Colombian because, I don’t feel it in my heart. I don’t have any memories of me in Colombia. All my memories are of here, my home. Can I call it my home? Does my ‘home’ call me its’ tenant? its’ owner? I would die for this country, this ideology, but I am not allowed. I love this country, and in the past this country loved me, loved immigrants. I just found out I can’t join the military. I can’t join any branch. I love my country and someday it will look at me and say “I love you too”
Your home is where your friends… Where you have people to hang out with, and watch movies with… The government doesn’t need to acknowledge you, as long as those around you do… So there are things you can’t do… Everyone has something they can’t do, as well as many things they can… Personally I don’t have a country… I have lived different amounts of time, in many different places, with no where in particular to call home… But my parents were there… My brothers were there… So it became a place called home… The world is much more than just countries… And often the world becomes broken down, from continents to countries, to cities, to homes… To families… Cherish that you are in a place you love… A place you would die for….