There was no need to tell another hundredth story about an American soldier stationed in the Philippines who fell in love with a Filipino woman. I was ten years old when I met my dad for the first time. It took him a decade to get me and my mom to migrate to America. Living without a father for years was quite painful; I was so happy that my family became whole at last. Well, I thought we were happy. As the years went by, their constant arguing was getting worse, so was dad’s drunken tirade. Mom, who was trying to keep our family from separating, had taken a toll on her mental health. She always told me to focus on my studies for my future. However, the school wasn’t as memorable either. Even after becoming an American citizen, people still saw me as a foreigner, something of an oddity, especially every time I stepped into a cafeteria. As time passed, I never became what people called an outgoing person, even when I was with whom I called friends. Even at home, I co
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