After the fall of Saigon, which marked the end of the Vietnam War, life became very difficult for me because my adoptive father was arrested by the Communists. When he was released some time later, our family was forced to move from the city to the countryside. We tried to make a life for ourselves, but we had to learn how to survive there. Everything was hard and frustrating. I was not happy at all. When I went to sleep, I hoped I would not wake up. 

My family kept me isolated from society because I am half Vietnamese and half American. I felt there was nothing to look forward to but to work, eat, sleep, get sick, and die. We also worried constantly about the communist regime. There seemed to be little hope. 

During this time, though, the thought came to me that life had to be much more than this. I was heartbroken and looking for a way to end my life, but something kept saying to me to just trust and believe. I was confused. How was I to trust when I had nothing to hope for? Yet, I felt something was saying to me that I should choose either love or anger. For some reason, I chose love.