| Current mood: |  tired |
I'm halfway between home and here... but I don't know which is home anymore. I'm obviously looking forward to seeing each and every one of you guys, and when I start thinking about missing you I miss you more desperately and painfully. I'm looking forward to wiping out my savings by doing some massive shopping during sales - I'm only bringing four shirts back and I don't have clothes at home! Downsizing much? But when you're forced to be with people for twelve consecutive weeks, day in and day out, every day and every night, through the alcoholic hazes and clear skies, especially when you don't have anyone else... you bond well fast. And I'll miss London and how fucking gorgeous it is. And I'll miss my independence and my life here. It seems so different yet the same.
I wonder if everything that has changed about me - if all the bits that I've lost to people, and all the bits that I've gained to fill myself back - I wonder if all of it will remain the same - will remain changed - when I touch down.
I hope it does.
(It's 5.41am on a Sunday morning and I have two more nights sleep to go before I'll be fidgeting on a plane. I think I'm going home, except that when leave home, I think I'll be going home too.)
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