Lost in Fate by Rhea Saincher

Dear diary,

September 23rd, Monday, 5:20 PM, 2016

I have just entered the JFK airport of the U.S.A. I am currently wearing a lovely blue coloured skirt and I am wearing a white coloured t-shirt that look very similar to the walls and the floor in the airport. Before I entered the JFK airport i saw its peculiar shape intrigued me and I loved how it was so unique. It smells like orange blossom, full of the best shops in history I can just sniff the fresh leather and the exciting things I will do only in the airport. I can see the bright lights on the signs representing those shops, Gucci, H and M, Zara, Loui vuitton and so much more! I do have a day long of a wait so let's see what happens. I am so excited to finally meet what now wont be my long lost cousin. I have been told she has long brown, wavy and curly hair, ones that will fly with the wind and sway with the breeze. She has starry violet eyes that match with the brunette hair that she's got. A fair complexion and a very kind personality. She messaged me that she will be wearing a black and white plaid jacket with a pretty skirt and a white top, I guess I am just looking for the pretty girl out there. Now don't underestimate me, I am pretty well at least I think I am. But I dont think being pretty is what is always important, so anyways getting back to the point. I just reached the immigration process. I am on my way I promise. The officer asked me a few questions, "Why did you come here for business or pleasure?" he inquired. I said pleasure. "Can I have your passport" I said nothing, only gave it to him, I do not want to get into trouble. "I am sorry ma'am, this passport seems to be invalid" he says. " Can you try again?" "I am sure it is fine," I replied. He did it again and the machine read. "Invalid Passport." And I was scared to death, for once I was allowed to meet my cousin but all thanks to an issue in my passport I won't I am so sad and I wonder why this is happening to me. I was taken to a room, with guys looking very evil, almost like scammers. I waited there for about 2 hours. I got really bored and I was not too sure why I was put in here, I didn't even know the name of this room, or it's purpose. Either way when I got out I was called to an office and I saw a man with a really long mustache and he was smoking a cigarette. I entered and sat there hoping not to inhale any of that smoke. The man explained that my passport was invalid because my country had not validated it and that for an entire year I was not a citizen of any country. So I was told to go ahead and shop, I was able to exchange my yen for a couple of hundred dollars and I was glad that the Russian man, on his way to japan was able to exchange it. I managed to dig up some coupons in the garbage thanks to the man who came to collect the garbage. One thing I really needed was a bed and every single chair in the whole of the airport was taken, I had no idea how rude people were before that time. I asked a chinese man to move his bag over and he would not budge. He started shouting at me in words that did not even make any sense. He always kept repeating the word To a lot I wondered whether that was go so I just went from there. Next I asked a german lady, her parrot was in the bench ahead of her and so I asked her to move it back to her seat but she just started crying. For 1 and a half hours I was waiting and listening to her sob and sob and sob like some sort of baby. Then I said that I had to go but really I had nowhere to go. I have to rely on the hospitality of strangers it is impossible. So I just invented. It is one of the best things I do. I took some pillows that we get from the shop, Mr Lakosh the airport police officer had lended me his blanket and the chinese man I met just to apologise, compromised with a neck pillow. So I joined all the pillows together with a spare needle and thread I had and used the neck pillow as my normal pillow, as in the one I sleep on and then my blanket is from Mr. Lakosh , whom I feel terrible to have disturbed, apparently he was in mourning and his dad had passed away. So I went like that every day, relying on the hospitality of others. Sometimes I feel free but the other times I don't. I live on terminal 62 and I am not very happy about that. Knowing that you don't belong, knowing that you can't tell anyone about anything makes you feel sad so I am glad to have you diary. Although, I want to know who I'm writing to, who will read my story. Diary entries usually clear up my mind, is there someone else out there who's ming it can clear? I don't know, so don't ask me, ask someone with credibility someone who belongs because I don't think I do. Sometimes hospitality to me can also depend on who you are as a human being, and do you have what it takes to have hospitality. So many people in today's world don't like how this goes, although I know I have what it takes to have the beautiful hospitality.

Your truly mad friend

Rita Fitzpatrick