I miss Mongolian Food…

“I miss Mongolian food.”

“Dude, they serve Mongolian beef at D2”

“Yeah, but that’s not Mongolian food”

“Fine , If you don’t like them, I know the best Mongolian restaurant here in the city”

“Yeah, they’re not Mongolian either.”

“Not even Mongolian shrimp?”

“Dude, we’re landlocked.”

“Why do you want Mongolian food that badly anyways?”

Because I miss home.

I miss the soft breeze caressing my skin

I miss the wide, wide plains you can see

I miss the torn white huts that we call ger

I miss the small plates full of mother’s love

I miss the fake smiles that put me through a lot

“Everyone misses home, what’s wrong with you?”

Because I miss my identity too.

I miss not having to wake up and see Sony instead of Sodoo

I miss not having to pretend understanding something that I don’t

I miss not having to force a smile on my face everytime I’m down

I miss not having to bite my tongue everytime I want to cry

I miss the understanding, the bond I had

I miss the guy who wanted to change the world

“Where is he now?”

“Piled under his assignments, try talking to him, he’ll kill you”

Burgers are good, shawarmas are amazing.

But I miss Mongolian food.

I really do.