When I was five, we mirrored the ways of the nomadic peoples and traveled to fifteen different places we would soon then call home.


When I was six, this loneliness ate away at my heart. I was as lonely as a deserted island, left to my own thoughts, never being able to push the feeling away. So I asked my parents to make a best friend for me.


When I was seven, my mother gave birth to my new best friend who would accompany me on this endless journey filled with constant relocation and undiscovered places.


When I was seven, a growth the size of a grapefruit formed on the left hemisphere of my mother’s brain. She disappeared for two months so as far as I was concerned, I gained a best friend but also lost one. She came back to us, but very slowly.


When I was seven, I turned into a stranger with odd similarities to this woman I called my mother.