It's been the longest day. I've gotten a lot accomplished. I've sweat a lot. I've flexed my muscles throughout the day (realized I have them after all). I feel like I am on fire.
I'm exhausted, but I feel the need to write a little something because this is my last night in the UK. I've looked forward to this moment for so long, but now I don't want to go. I admit it's partly because I am tired right now and that I am afraid of Heathrow. But let's face it: I've gotten used to life here. Yes, I know I can adjust back to my life at home, but I wonder if it will be the same as before I left. I don't want it to be because that means that I really have learned nothing, done nothing.
If this experience living abroad has taught me anything about myself, it's that I'm never happy in any place and that I need to move around, see new things (almost constantly). I realize this seems really stupid. It supposes I will never find a place that will make me happy, make me want to stay, though I will act as if I am looking for "that place." I guess I just need to not expect so much.
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