Long way from home
As I sit here eating breakfast I can't help but feel horribly nostalgic. Ive been home in America for two years now but nothing feels right and I don't feel nearly as happy as I was in England. I miss everything I had there: good friends, lots of roommates, sandwich shops, white coffees, (dare I say) my boyfriend --well maybe just the thought of him. ;) I miss having a job that I enjoyed and taking classes and getting curries and going to free museums and crazy professors and cigarettes outside and full english breakfasts (not made by myself) and drunken pub nights and occasional club nights and learning how to cook and real rivers and massive parks and walking and the tube and the busses
I miss that city that goes to sleep at 11 on the week days and never at the weekends. I really hope I get into LSE...my world my shatter if I don't..but at least if i was in england there would be a friend there to offer a cup of tea with milk and let me know that its alright.
Is it that I feel alone here? Stuck in a rut? Or is it that sometimes you are meant to be somewhere else and then your soul dies as you wait to get back.
I miss that city that goes to sleep at 11 on the week days and never at the weekends. I really hope I get into LSE...my world my shatter if I don't..but at least if i was in england there would be a friend there to offer a cup of tea with milk and let me know that its alright.
Is it that I feel alone here? Stuck in a rut? Or is it that sometimes you are meant to be somewhere else and then your soul dies as you wait to get back.