I had spent years residing in the rolling green terrain of the Italian countryside I missed the smell of the sweet country air, the hustle and bustle of the cities when I ventured to them, and the rich art culture that enveloped the entire country. From the suburban area to the chaos in the cities, Japan simply did not feel like home to me.
I had become a stranger to my homeland and accustomed to the homely feel of a foreign country where I did not belong.
Though my restless case of homesickness was the least of my woes. I was a new student at the prestigious school for the rich called Ouran, but it was a place where no one knew it was best just to leave me alone. They poked and pried, whispers followed me down the hallway and I was plagued with a vague understanding that even in the different classes their are the top dogs.
The Host club, a group of boys who entertained the girls after school, seemed to be the ruling force of supreme popularity in the school. Where they went people followed. What they did people talked about. Girls stalked their heels like lost puppies while boys glowered or tried to imitate them.
They were extraordinarily odd and I for one had no time to bother with them. My apathy towards the Host club seemed more shocking then my aversion to social interaction to the student body at this very stuffy school.
I was alone, homesick, and surrounded by those who cared only of money and social standing. So, as I lay on my bed, sleepless once again I could not help but dwell in the lowly chambers of my mind. I was unmistakably miserable here.