Still Not Sure

It’s not like I lose sleep over this, but I sure would like to know what exactly I am. Sure, I know I’m a 16 year old (male) teenager with a passion for sports but also a hankering to succeed in the classroom. But let’s put it this way: I still feel like a foreigner in the UK, the USA and Holland, even if I am a citizen of each country. Even a phalanx of bureaucratic red (orange?) tape has failed to convince me that I’m not Dutch, even if can barely claim to possess a cursory knowledge of the language.
Still, I’m uncomfortable with the brash yet cushy American way of things yet also feel lost with the meek, gritty, direct (how’s that for paradoxical?) scheme of things back in Europe. As you can see, I’m just about lost for plausible reasons to this indecision. I have one theory.
See, I live in the UK, but have never gained any real appreciation for say, the Scouse or Geordies, but likewise the formulation for my interpretation of America is more or less reliant on the white upper-class avenues of Southern California. Point is, my grassroots knowledge of the UK, US and Holland is so lacking that it is nigh impossible to translate my experiences to myself. Effectively, that little section of the fatty, watery mass that constitutes my brain is like a ticket to Wimbledon’s Centre Court for today’s (yesterday by now) match up between Andy Murray and Rafael Nadal: Non-transferable, no matter what the holder does.
However, neither love nor money can help solve my identity “crisis,” to toss in an overused catchphrase. Pure, damned hard work. Speaking of which, a belated good luck to you, Andy.