I have been away from home now for just over three months. Yesterday, James left and went home. He gets into London in about 45 minutes in fact, after a gruelling 33 hours in transit, Fiji to Hong Kong, to Doha, to London.
I haven't loved travelling. It is exhausting and stressful, and I have been pretty home sick the whole time. Now that James is at home with my family as well, it's become unbearable. Tonight I am in one of those hostel rooms where no one talks, so I ate alone and spent the night alone. I was hassled by some bearded arse in Macdonalds (Classic American culture, I had to go there to eat).
When I got into bed earlier I just feel hugely out of place. I would give anything to be going home right now, I am so tempted to book the next flight out. he annoying thing is knowing if I do I will really regret it. But anywhere I walk to or spent time in I just feel like I can't breath and I'm deeply unhappy.
I'm hoping that when I wake up tomorrow I won't feel that, and after a couple of days I'll be thinking oh my god I nearly threw it all in! But right now the massive depressive well in the pit of my stomach, lying across my lungs and making my breathing short, it is so so depressing that I feel like I cannot cope. That I have to leave.
This is the nastiest feeling I have ever had. Not only the sadness, but the sheer disappointment in myself for not being able to cope. It's broken my heart just a little.
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