Thursday, November 29, 2012

Breaking Up

I have reached an new stage, one that I would guess was fairly normal in the State Department, person-to-country relationship, but is none-the-less, new to me. It's the stage where we have to slowly break it off, "It's just easier this way," "It's not you, it's me," "We're just too different." Where we stop seeing each other, where I begin to look at other countries again and suddenly, where I once only saw perfection, I only see flaws.

Brazil and I, we started off our relationship fast. I wasn't ready to get serious, but I had no choice, we moved in together. I still really had my heart set on another country, though. I felt like I was living a lie. I still loved the USA.

Our relationship was intense in nature, but my heart just wasn't in it.

Then something changed and I forgot about the US, "Oh ya, that guy, he doesn't serenade me with parrot songs outside my bedroom window or give me fresh mangos or fresh breaths of eucalyptus on my morning runs!" Brazil gave me a baby for crying out loud! We started to walk the same and talk the same. We ate the same foods and began to like the same music. He gave me mix tapes.

In the past few weeks, I feel like Brazil is trying to break it off with me.  He is placing huge and never before seen insect and insect eggs in my home, he is making my always painful, but recently tolerable trips to the grocery store, impossible and he has allowed his people once again to laugh at me when I misspeak in Portuguese. Something that hasn't happened since our first hot and heavy months together.

Truth be told, I've begun to think about the USA again. His pot-hole-less roads, his virtually insect free homes, his anal retentive love for orderly lines and shopping cart returns, his voice, a voice I understand completely.

I don't want it to be true, I want to love them both, but love is pain and I'm in a place where I have no say in where I stay, so yes, maybe it's easier this way.

Please forgive me USA, can you still love me and quasi-Brazilian love-child? I'm coming home to you...but I have the scent of mango in my linens and I'll never be able to give you that little piece of my heart that I'll leave in Brazil.


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