Yangyang, USA
When I was three years old my father passed away. At that time my mother had just given birth to my younger brother, and my grandmother, owing to superstition, said that it was my mother and younger brother that caused my father’s death. For lack of a better option mother had to take my younger brother to her father’s house to live, so from the start of my earliest memories I was living together with my grandpa and grandma. Although my grandpa and grandma treated me well I still felt lonely and really wanted to be together with my mom and little brother. I hoped for the same kind of motherly love that other kids received. Really, what I was asking for wasn’t much, all I wanted was a true family, a mother who loved me dearly, who I could share my true feelings with. But even this small ask turned into an extravagant hope. I was only able to see my mother on the weekends. Whenever I got into trouble at school mom was never there by side either, I was like a small patch of grass by the side of the road, nobody showed any interest in me. Over time I became very self-abased, I held everything back in my heart and didn’t take initiative to interact with others. When I was sixteen there were some people in my village who were going abroad for work, and the idea tempted me. I thought to myself: My family conditions aren’t very good, if I were to go abroad then I could earn my own living, and even give some of my earnings to my family. That way I could help my family live a little better.
