A foreign place, A different year, a different God that I fear.
Keeping face, keeping pride, born into feelings I’m supposed to hide.
Loving people that I hate, making money, keeping good faith. I must tolerate.
Hard-working and empty inside, selling my body to the next guy that walks by.
Killing me slowly, killing me inside, no where to run and nowhere to hide.
This is what I’m born into. This is where I will die. Unless I marry a stranger, a sailor, or a foreign guy.
(Travel blog when I was in my early 20’s in the perspective of a Thai bartender.)