It’s been a long month. It’s been a quick month. It’s been a busy month. It’s certainly been one for the books no matter how complicated it was, or even seems. It’s not one I’m ready to see the back of, I kind of wish it was able to stick around just a little while longer. So much has happened, and so much is yet to come but it all just seems to be flying past my eyes.
Some days I’ll catch myself just staring out of my window (normally when there’s a sunset). I’ll stand there for a good while, sometimes with a blank mind, sometimes constantly repeating that I really don’t want to leave, and that’s when it gets overwhelming and complicated. I don’t want to leave England, but I don’t want to leave behind the people I ‘love’ in Canada. I’m split. I’m so terribly split, and it’s not something most would understand unless they’ve been through the same thing as I. This feeling of being physically and emotionally split between two countries, two continents, leaves me in a weird place not being able to control the tears that stream down my cheeks as I look out of the window at the sun setting on yet another day. Maybe it would be easier to let my heart follow my head and my body if I knew with absolute certainty that I wouldn’t lose friends in that move across the ocean, but it has happened to me before and it hurts, it hurts terribly. People say that they’ll write, that they’ll stay in touch, but they don’t. Not really. I have had only one letter from someone that wasn’t related to me. Only one friend bothered enough to ask for my address and send me a letter, Facebook says I have over 500 friends, maybe 50 of them I would say I was somewhat close enough to. So why out of all of those people, especially those people who I would say I was close to, who say they miss me and want me to come back, would only one would actually be willing to take the time to write me. Maybe I’m over thinking it. Maybe the impersonal touch of saying something to another over a keyboard is enough for some. Maybe it’s just me but I don’t like it, there’s no effort nowadays, there’s no thought or feeling put into chatting over the internet like there is when you send something in the post.
Call me old fashioned, but I really do prefer the good old snail mail.
But, even with all of this conflicting emotion the adventures continue. New experiences keep getting added to the story of my life.
I’ve seen magical rocks at Stonehenge. Walked through history in Bath. Explored my way around London little by little on several different occasions. Saw my first ever rugby game at The Stoop in Twickenham (England Women vs. Scotland Women, England won 64-0). Realised some things about myself and what I want in the future at The Globe. I was given hope by an actor who probably doesn’t even know that he did so during Othello at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse. And even today, I got lost in the magic all over again at the Harry Potter Studio Tour.
And I wouldn’t change any of it for the world.
I would, however, happily experience it all the same way again.
There’s even more I still want to do.
It’s not over yet.
Not at all.