Well, it's currently 1:31 am and I refuse to go to bed. I've got a mostly packed suitcase sitting open in the middle of the floor, a messy bed, and Ingrid Michaelson's "You and I" on repeat. I'm really craving a warm milk chocolate chip cookie from Ben's and a tall glass of milk.
Today is my last day in England. I know that once I finally go to sleep, I'll be waking up to my final classes. I hate that feeling. The feeling of the end. There's too much finality in things like these. I may never see my lovely teachers Ed or Keith again. I've only known them for a month, but they have taught me so much. How do you thank someone who does that much for you? It breaks my heart to know that most of these kids I've been seeing every day I'll never see again. I mean, sure we only had a month, and I'm rather stand offish at first so it's not like I'm leaving lifelong bosom buddies or anything, but I'm going to miss that crazy Shakespeare class and the silly photography gals. I'm going to miss Izabella and our life chats.
I'm going to miss England. I'm going to miss the Moo-Moo's and the Ben's and the Pieminister and the bbq chicken paninis from that random shack by the martyrs' memorial. I'm going to miss the open windows and the daisies in the grass and the crow that sounds like an alarm clock every morning. I'm going to miss High Street and the covered market and the 20 minute walk into town. I'm going to miss the two hour bus rides into London and the sheep in the fields and the miles and miles of rolling green hills. I'm going to miss doing the Cotton Eye Joe in Shakespeare and grabbing G&D's in photography.
I just can't cope with the finality right now. I'm so excited for the future, but I feel this crushing weight on my heart. How do you leave a place that your heart insists on staying in?