It has been over six years since I stepped foot on your soil. It has been six years since I swore to myself that I would never return to the place that had become my hell for the two and a half months I was forced to be in a place I did not want to be. I had just turned 19 years old, just finished my freshman year of college, working my first internship in a field that I had zero to no interest in. But there I was, standing on what felt like an earthquake, constantly finding my footing, finding any chance for escape, exhausted to the bare bones of my existence. I can’t explain the feeling of being perpetually destroyed by people who are your blood. Weren’t they supposed to love you? Were they not ecstatic to see me, spend over two months with their grandchild who had traveled all the way from the United States, missed me, and wanted to get to know me? The answer to all these questions, I learned, was a very simple, “no”. They had no desire to learn the person I had become. They were...