(no subject)
i don't think i really thought this through. i kind of want to come home. i've been here for 3 months. i've never been so lonely. but it's a strange kind of lonely, self-inflicted. since i'm here with two of my best friends. israel is beautiful and i like being of drinking age. i like the food. the language interests me, but not enough to learn it.
the truth is that i'm sick of myself. i'm sick of nursing, comforting, and amusing myself. i've read more books in these past 3 months than in the last 3 years combined. and i hate hate hate shabbat.
the truth is that i'm writing this on lj because my real journal is sickeningly full of this kind of stuff. i know there are some days i'm glad i'm here. i know i don't have very long left. i know i'll be home before i know it and then it will be israel that i miss. i know how finicky i am. i know, but...
the truth is that i'm sick of myself. i'm sick of nursing, comforting, and amusing myself. i've read more books in these past 3 months than in the last 3 years combined. and i hate hate hate shabbat.
the truth is that i'm writing this on lj because my real journal is sickeningly full of this kind of stuff. i know there are some days i'm glad i'm here. i know i don't have very long left. i know i'll be home before i know it and then it will be israel that i miss. i know how finicky i am. i know, but...