I came to America for college that was in a small rural town in Iowa. I’d never been in a house built of wood before. It was odd to hear creaks as I walked across the floor or up the stairs. Houses in Bangladesh are silent, solid brick and cement structures. I thought, “How does this even stay up?” I expected it to fall apart.
Life here is a bullshit life. There is nothing but work. I leave my house for work at 8 and get home around 10.
When I call home, people ask me for money. They think that money is flying around in the US. They have no idea how hard it is. That’s why I don’t keep in touch with anyone in Bangladesh except for my relatives.