When I write in English I feel a lot of wonderful but very akward emotions. The first thing I feel is a bit of acomplishment because I spent a whole year learning it, and I have to admit it wasn't easy. I also feel really good thinking that my parents would be very proud if they saw me writing in English, like their kid just grew up. But then I feel like if I were leaving something behind, my whole childhood, my parents, my traditions, my hometown, even myself. But then just before I fall apart I can somehow look up and I see myself in the future, with a good job and a big happy family, and all thanks to my english. But suddenly I come back to me and I realize that I'm just writing in English. What a big deal.
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