The night before last, I kept waking myself up with panic attacks. I was dreaming over and over again about leaving. All of a sudden, it would be time for me to go, and I kept getting ripped from all the people I've met here. I wasn't able to say my goodbyes properly, and I was being pushed forward to the next step before I could even finish the one prior. All I wanted to do was cry and scream and dig my heels in and say, "No! I'm not ready yet!" But it was all to no avail.
And then, I'd wake up. In a cold sweat and breathless. And completely lost.
I'm trying to remind myself to just enjoy the days I've left here, and to soak up every single bit of them that I can. I'm trying to tell myself to be adventurous and to take a leap and just take each day as it comes rather than count out all the ones passing by so quickly. But it's just so difficult, and all I want to do is curl up into someone else's arms for a nice long hug, be handed a cup of tea, have a nice seat, and talk about all these things. Or better yet, go out and do all the things I've been longing for--another Belfast adventure, seeing the mountains, going to the beach, taking edgy photos to document all of it. Or even better, be handed a plane ticket for me to come back, and a place to live with an awesome roommate and an incredible job (no matter what the pay, if any at all).
But on the plus side here, the fam comes so so soon! In 20 days, I'll be with them (and in 11, they'll be sharing a time zone with me--which is pretty fantastic, even if I won't be near them). Mum, you better take plenty of photos on your tours--especially of funny road signs or meals or anything of that sort.
Sending my love across the pond--send me some of yours as well, please.
Dang. I can't believe you only have 2 mo's left! Savor it all!
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