I don't know where I belong anymore. Where to call "Home". Four years ago, when I lived in Sweden I was sure that was my home. The place I loved the most. One year ago I didn't really care, but I would call Kenya my home, but still call Sweden home. Now I don't know anymore. I like Sweden so much. I love the seasons, the freedom, the thought that my whole family lives there and my house and friends. But then here I've created new memories and feelings. In these 3 years I've been in Kenya so much has happened. I've experienced so much more than I would have ever experienced in Sweden. I found myself. Here in Kenya I can be who I am. Sure, people can judge me here too, but I'm not the only one being judged, I have my closest friends right next to me who will stand up for ourselves and not be pushed down.
I left Sweden when I was 11, so I was still a kid. Me and my friends would play what we called "Mamma, Pappa, barn" Which means Mom, dad, child, and we would create new stories, we would be different characters ect. We also played a lot with L.P.S, which are plastic animal toys with giggily heads. We could play for hours with those toys. But that was then, 3 years ago, we're older now. We have grown out of our childhood. And I'm afraid we have grown out of our friend ship too. That those toys were the main thing that held us together.
I still have contact with them, and we still have a lot to talk about, which is good. The problem is that I'm not really what you call a "Teenager" compared to them. In my old class in Sweden the girls wear tons of make up, they care about how they look and all that stuff. Ok, I care about how I look too, I want to wear what I think suits best for me, the clothes I'm more comfortable in. But I barely know how to put on mascara correctly without me looking like darthwader (I have no idea how to spell his name so don't judge).
I probably shouldn't worry, right? I mean, Those thought are just... Thoughts. Maybe they will accept me for who I am and let me be who I really am. Even if they don't, Who freaking cares? I'm still gonna walk in with my kikoy pants (Kenyan pants) and stand up for myself! And it's only gonna be like 2 years, 8th and 9th grade. And there's always room for other options, so if it's horrible, it's not the end of the world.
If you're Swedish btw you have to read "Tusen gånger starkare" Made me feel so much better about myself moving back to Sweden! Or you could watch the movie, your choice.
Ok, anyways, I might blog about that book in another blogpost, but for now, Catch you later aligator!