Slipped between the pages of my journal, on a scrap piece of paper
The only thing I feel like doing is going home.
It’s the only thing I look forward to.
I should be happy that I got accepted into the French program but all I can think of is that it’s two more months I have to live until I’m with my family again.
Is it the city I miss? Or just my family?
It is home. Mostly my family but also all of our routines, traditions, and simple comforts. Family dinners, game nights, watching TV together, spending time together.
To have someone to talk to at night when I’m too anxious to sleep. To have someone who knows me just as well as I know myself, who can guide me, calm me down, and love me.