When I first started this year, I had a somewhat idea of who I was, but after traveling to a new country, meeting so many new and different people, I learned that I really don’t know who I am anymore.

When we first started this class, we made an Identity web. I put basic things like a sister, white, musician, etc. One thing that I put down, however, was something I had been told my whole life by my family. That I’ve come from nothing but “white trash”. It never really bothered me until I got to Agnes, where most people haven’t seen a cow give birth, or got stuck behind a tractor on the way to school, a school that’s really not bigger than Agnes itself. Very few people had to ride the public school bus during their Senior year of high school, or never got to hang out with friends because how would you get home if you didn’t have a working car or how to pay for the gas? I thought everyone knew what it was like to deep clean your house in two days cause the landlord was coming over. To put it in simple words, I began to hate who I was and where I came from. I felt like I didn’t belong here, that there must have been a mistake. That it was a mistake coming here.

I would try to go home as much as I could so I could feel normal again, but I hated going back to because I was reminded of how little I was to others. I had planned on leaving Agnes. Then I went to Bulgaria. I never thought I would ever get the chance to travel outside North America, or even to Europe. Then the plane touched down in Frankfort, Germany, and I felt different. I saw a different type of pine tree. I tried food that I couldn’t pronounce less make myself. And when we made it to Sofia and walked around the city, I felt like I almost belonged in a sense. I knew what it was like growing up worrying about if you would have enough money for food and gas. I never wanted to leave.

Then we saw a glimpse into Bulgaria’s past. These people were vastly different from me, yet they treated me like I was another loud American tourist. They couldn’t tell that I was white trash, that the only reason I was there was because of scholarships and loans that will take a lifetime to pay off, they didn’t know.

Once we got back to Agnes, this feeling of not belonging increased. Even though I feel a little more connected to the people here at Agnes, I felt like I lost some connection to the place I call home. I am different. I don’t really belong anywhere right now. I don’t fit in anywhere. But maybe by the end of next year, I might find a place I do fit in, or I guess I’ll have to make one.