Okay. Emptiness. Frustration, love, being so unbelivably lost. The answer is right in front of you, but it's in a language you can't read (just yet). You want to know, to be able to put a name to a face, but it's impossible. So you drown. You lose yourself and focus solely on learning the language, remembering the face of the name. And you die. In doing so, you suffocate yourself and everyone around you. You can't eat. You haven't eaten a proper meal in months. You break. You can't sleep. You choose not to sleep, because sleeping is for those who are comfortable and safe. You're anything but comfortable and safe. You stay awake until four am trying to learn the language of the face, and it doesn't happen. When you sleep, you dream. You dream of the teacher, who is fluent in the language. However, they don't speak your first tongue. So when you wake up, you are immeadiatley hit with reality. The reality that YOU DON'T KNOW. You never knew. So you accept that you don't know. You accept that you're lost, that you may never know, that conjugating the verbs in the language is going to be as hard as the syntax itself. You accept that you don't know, that you might know soon, or never, and that whatever you know can change. It will always change. But while it changes, it will stay the same. You will improve your vocabulary, and you will expand your one-word sentences until they become paragraphs and pages. You will learn. And while you learn, you will always be you. You will know your original language, and this language that has been hiding from you since you were six. You will be bilingual and love it. And you will be okay. You are going to be okay.