I wish I could translate what I feel

I wish I could translate what I feel when you ask me where I’m from.

Sometimes, it’s delight.
I’m happy that you want to know.

Sometimes, it’s pressure. A silent, dreadful sigh released in my head,
while I’m telling the unsatisfactory story,
while grimacing a grin at you.

It’s remembrance of the confusion I’ve internalized
a piece of the past I’m still carrying for no good reason

My soul knows the answer but my body and mind seem to know otherwise
The body remembers, they say
It remembers what the mind tactfully erased

Milyen jól beszélsz magyarul
你中文说的很好哦
Your English is so good

I’ve heard it all, everywhere, not just once
I dream in all of them, and I’m not the most fluent in my mother tongue

You tell me where I’ll finally be accepted as a native
Should I take offense or not?
I still feel the weight of people’s gazes
sometimes in moments where I should feel seen and safe

I often wonder what’s real or mine,
I need to own the evolving clarity.

Friend, can you accept that I don’t feel
what you think
about any of the countries I’m associated with?

Will you stop projecting your need to categorize neatly onto me?
Can you stop projecting your internal turmoil, learned shame,
your fifty shades of shoulds as well?

I am tired of the dread.
I don’t want to perform identity.
I am not fragmented, not confused anymore.
I’m done being the victim or the villain.

I’d rather you not walk on eggshells when we talk.
What’s the point of being masks facing each other,
conditioned to be afraid of being real?

My soul knows the answer:
I belong to all of them and none.

I’m claiming the invisible field that covers them all,
it’s boundless, filled with potential,\

I feel the raging peace here—this
is what I want to share.

So I invite you to be curious about my history,
I yearn for us to support who we’re evolving to be.

I take the compliment.
I cut my tongue in three.
我不想 és nem fogok amplify only one.