istanbul is wearing me out

it seems that whenever I choose to step outside of my crib in istanbul, a profound weariness settles over me. i’m so incredibly tired. tired of being stared at. tired of being hyper-aware of the color of my skin. tired of having people ask me inappropriate shit. i’m tired.

the worst part? i feel like the color of my skin has transformed this experience into something i need to ‘survive through’ instead of ‘LIVE through’. i keep catching myself thinking, ‘it’s only a few months, Yasmin, you’ll get through it’. however, i was under the impression that i would be having SO much fun on my exchange that the time would fly in front of my eyes. instead, many days have dragged by wearily, with me wishing for the comforts of home.

i’m tired. i just want to curl up in my bed and forget that this shit is happening to me. but i won’t. cause that would be a failure to myself. two posts ago, i wrote, “i won’t let these morons chip away at my humanity because I understand my value”. i need to live, breathe, and eat that mantra. anything less would lead to me imploding with tears, frustration, irritation, and most painfully nostalgia – for racist-ass McG, for bougie-ass Toronto, for my crazy and loving familia, for my MTL friends, for comfort.

i’ll be ok. but i’m tired.

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