My Sweet Melancholy by Porter Graham

Bittersweet. A word I never thought I’d use, let alone to describe a trip like this. Let’s start with the bitter. I get lonely a lot. Like a lot a lot. It’s really easy for me. I feel lonely at school and at home and about everywhere else. I hoped I could run away to India and it wouldn't follow. But apparently, it’s hard to run from a literal part of you. Whoda thunk? Anyways, that’s how I’ve felt for a solid chunk of this trip. And yesterday seemed like the final straw. I just decided to walk by myself, sit by myself and not bother anyone else. Then we got our letters from home, and everything changed. My amazing parents wrote exactly what I needed to read. I love you mom and dad. I’m sorry I don’t say it enough. You’ve reminded me how to be vulnerable. How to let people enter my life and me into theirs, rather than force it. It’s amazing how much the eyes can be opened when you are at your most vulnerable state.

Now the sweet. This place is awesome. I’ve missed so much school and I love it. I’m not sure I can pick a favorite memory. It could be singing One Dat one last time, but it’s probably watching kids fight over who gets to hold my hand or hop on my shoulders. The views are great. The people are amazing. It seems like every one of them waves to us on the way to the school. I’m gonna miss it here. I’m going to miss my sweet Gungen, my funny Akshit, my amazing Neerav. There’s 12 more but I’ll save them for later. Katelyn’s been trying to get me to say it so I will. I love you. I love you India. I love you Lalsa. It’s been good. Namaste

(P.S. Madi, I went to Dansa. They love you. They miss you. I didn’t think it was possible but I think India misses you more than you miss it.)


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