I wouldn’t say I’m homesick, but rather the complete opposite. I am sick of home. Which is weird because it’s not like I’ve spent an excessive amount of time at home in the past three years. It doesn’t seem to matter, though. The thought of having to return home come September makes me want to run away again. I’m already in England so there aren’t many places for me to go from here, to boot.
I have a quest. I’m trying to get a job in England that would be enough to keep me here on another visa before I have to leave again. The dream would be something in publishing. Preferably in editing, but I know it’s difficult to get a job in editing so I’ll take anything, really. And you know what? Despite only sleeping five hours a night for the past week (give or take), having September hang over my head like the blade of a guillotine, and having so much work to do, I am PUMPED.
After university I will embark on…well, real life! What bigger adventure is there?
I can’t wait to get my career started and have a place of my own. Not that I want to grow up, necessarily. I just want…
I’ll let you know when I figure it out.