A secret (kind of depressing) post

*I've decided not to post this snippet on Facebook, since it's depressing and a useless complaint of loneliness, so if you've happened upon it that means your actually a faithful follower and I adore you.*

I love fish and chips. I do. Lucky for me, there's one on just about every corner here. (As well as a Liquorland, but we don't go there. Or won't until I suffer a mental breakdown beyond the help of reasonable substances.) I'm impatient for the day I can go to the beach and each fish and chips on the sand. You know, shooing away seagulls and complaining about getting sand in my food.

It's been almost a month and half and I've already read four books. Two of them being 500 and 700 pages. I've also made a nice list of baked goodies. I need a day job. Srsly.

Sometimes when I go to sleep, or take excessively long naps, I pray that if I dream of it hard enough, I'll open my eyes and be back home. In my own bed. In apartment 360.

But such is not ever the case. My heart is literally experiencing physical discomfort because I miss home so much. I can feel emptiness, I can feel a hard pressure of sadness wrapped around it. And it is refusing to let up. 

I never thought it would be this hard, really. I thought it may be difficult to adjust, but I suppose I also thought I'd have a slew of Australian activities to occupy me. Apparently I expected parades that weaved loudly through the streets everyday, and koala's to come knocking at my door? I don't know. But I've had far too much down time to wish I could be home. Not 16,000 miles away from everything I love.

After chatting with a friend today (praise you for remembering I exist and still talking to me) I felt better about why I am here and how I need to act according to the circumstances. I'm obviously not going home soon, so I might as well buck up and find ways to enjoy my surroundings. There was also free range to complain and vent, as is necessary in conversations with such lovely friends.

I can't explain to you in words or expressions or any form of writing how much I want to come home. I know it's not going to be so logical to come home in December (other than the well being of my emotional health), so I'm trying to limit my mind to thinking just one month ahead, to ease the pressure of misery and sadness I feel. Trying to skip forward everyday to thinking of going home in April is like running through peanut butter. It seems too unattainable that way. It's much easier to convince myself I've only got to get through this next month. Which I can do. I can do that.

I miss the familiarity of home, obviously. But I miss the company I had there. My best friends were closer to me than family, and I need them. My cousin, my boyfriend (Ex- boyfriend? I feel like ex has a negative connotation with it, and there was no negativity associated with the end of that relationship.) my very favorite roommates of all time, my boys in 377 who I just absolutely adore. This is all just really hard.

I've made the executive decision of coming home April 11th, or at least as close to that date as possible. That will be the Monday after we've finished a week long trip in Bali and by then I'll have had the adventure I needed.

8 months to go, baby girl.

MP