When I was away, I missed home. I longed for the routine of my life as it was the way I left it.
And now that I’m home, I don’t know why I ever wanted to come back in the first place.
I don’t have much here. But I guess before I left the dizzying busy-ness of planning my trip and the excitement that came with it distracted me from all that my life lacked.
I miss waking up everyday with a new place to see. With new people to meet and new friends to make. It was easy, there, everyone was alone. It was easy to start up conversation. To identify fellow Americans or other English speakers who were also traveling. You can meet someone anywhere and end up spending the whole day, weekend, or week with them. I miss having different countries at my fingertips each day.
I had to come back… to finish my degree so I can go back again once I’m finished here. I might not have much but I have to appreciate what I have.
The paradox of missing home when you’re away, and missing everywhere else when you’re home… a vicious cycle of constant yearning. I am restless yet exhausted.
Until next time.