It's over.
I'm leaving you. I'm getting back with America. It's not you, it's me. I don't know I guess I just sometimes feel like we're speaking totally different languages. I mean, we've had some great times together for sure:
I'll always remember the vacant, expressionless old men with whom I engaged in staring contests bordering on Parkinson's, and the chess games where I would be dominated by such old men. And the type A personalities that inevitably became the crossing guards. What they lacked in authority they made up for with whistling their loud, red, whistles.
I'll soon miss the men in black suits, white socks, and brown shoes, with a belt matching anything but those three colors, holding their dirtied pants at anything but the right height; the many, many girls in tights and shorts, all of them in heels and none of them aware of how to walk. My eyes will search in vain for the men holding purses - it isn't girly if all of you are doing it, right?
I'll miss the bones in my food, not for how they flavored meat with that gritty texture, but how they flavored life with asphyxiation. I'll miss the convenience store where there was always 10 attendants with only one open register. I guess the rest of you were petting the cat that belonged to no one and everyone at the same time. I'll miss the isles and isles of fish flavored dried food and your green tea Oreos.
And who could forget Kingsley, the majestic and mysterious dog that bid us adieu and welcomed us home every day. I'll miss you Russian, the German Shepherd. You barked at us anytime we passed and with such ferocity that you alone could have mauled an entire middle school on your worst day. I know it's because you cared.
I hope we meet again, Chengdu cleanup crew. Who cares if there is trash all over the place? You recognize that occasional leaf on the sidewalk for what it is - a threat; a top priority, to be swept away at once. I'll miss the overnight construction projects. Your building code may have been written on a single sheet of toilet paper but it's not about fatalities - it's about results.
I'll miss the bikers, the mopeds, the taxis and drivers. Not one of you knows what you're doing but you all got a license for trying and that's what counts. I'll miss the land where rite-of-way is all about guts - either they'll get you where you need to go or splatter all over the pavement. But with enough confidence and a little luck, you might just beat that high score on Frogger.
You see? It's not that things weren't great with us. They were wonderful. It's just, America understands me. America gives me the freedoms I need. She doesn't care what I say or what my religion is and right now, that's what matters to me. She lets me use the internet without monitoring what sites I go to - she trusts me. You on the other hand, just don't have that kind of faith in me. You can be really closed-minded. You aren't very creative, and to be honest, you smell.
But I still think you are amazing. I know there is someone out there for you and I wish you all the best. Maybe sometime in the future we might get together again, but I just need a break from all this for now. I hope we can still be friends.
Sincerely,
Jake
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