I don't want to leave.
Every time I think about leaving London, including now as I type this, I can just feel the tears welling up, my vision gets blurred, and my breathing gets shaky. More often than not, the tears spill out, and I turn into a wet mess.
It's not that I hate home. I love Seattle. And I do miss my family, friends, and dog. It's not that I'm not ready to go home for the holidays, because no matter where I was, I'd be going home about now anyways. It's just that I'm not ready to not come back to London. If that makes sense.
There is literally nothing more to this except to say that Monday is going to be the worst day of this whole year and
the longest because I have a 10 hour flight that leaves here at 2:30 in
the afternoon and gets me home at 4 in the afternoon on the same day.
worst day + longest day = hell
I don't want to leave.
I don't want to leave.
I don't want to leave.
I don't want to leave.
I don't want to leave.
