The Things I Carried (assignment)

I moved to the United States six years ago. My home country is Bangladesh. I was born in the capital city name Dhaka and lived there for fourteen years. I never wanted to leave. It was my home. It is my home. My family, friends, and everyone that I am close to still live there. When it was final that my family and me were moving to the United States, I did not know what to carry with me. There were so many things I wanted to carry. I wanted to carry my whole country here. I wanted to carry my home to the United States of America. Instead, I carried the depression of losing my friends. I carried the fear of speaking correct English. I carried the fear of not seeing HIM anymore. I carried jealousy of the people who wasn’t going through the things that I was. I carried the fear of not adjusting. I carried the constant remembrance of home, the madness of going back to where I belong. I carried my old storybooks with me, my ipod classic, my old shattered leather bag filled with crap that I didn’t even need. I carried sadness, frustration of not belonging where I have to live from now on. I carried clothes, perfumes, my favorite ring that my grandma gave me the last time she saw. But now she is dead. I miss her a lot. I carried her memories with me. I carried my mother’s sadness, my brother’s constant questioning about everything, and my father’s American Dream. I carried the guilt of lying to HIM, I carried my heartbreak and did not say anything about it. I carried Goosebumps, nervousness, and tears. I carried my uncertain life, while everyone was leading his or her normal ones. I carried my dream of a successful life.