Kerem Mermutlu

I work in a restaurant in an airport in Taiwan. I am eighteen years old and I don__ like my job because everyone gets on planes and leaves. And I want to leave too.

Something else you should really know about me. When I get nervous, my fingers shake. I__e noticed this a lot recently. When mother and father argue and their voices are falling around the small family apartment, when their voices are banging against my bedroom door, I can feel my fingers start to move. I tell my fingers to stop and, sometimes, they do. But if I look at my hands closely, once I__e told them to stop, and I try to focus on keeping them as still as possible, I notice that they are still moving.

I don__ know if it was just me making things up in my head but after the fear in their eyes had gone what replaced it was like a sad kind of wondering. A wondering of where the old me was hiding. A wondering about where the old me had gone to. It was like I had suddenly been taken over by someone else and they could see the old me had fallen away for good.