I have one week left in London.
At exactly this time next week I will be on my flight, in my little economy-seat, guzzling down free JD-Cokes as I fight the urge to run back to my now empty room in East London.
I can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that it’s been 10 months since I first stepped into this room.
Every single inch of it has a story.
From the bit of the floor I passed out on, to the discovery of the curiously positioned nail under the table, the 3 square feet of space that was my studio, the mattress springs that suddenly erupt, stabbing me in the back, the lava lamp from free-cycle that I went to the other end of London to pick up, and the pin board of memories.
It’s really a bitter sweet feeling- leaving my friends and the wonderful life I’ve had here and going back to my comfort zone. I feel like I’ve suddenly grown up far too much.
I may not have done everything I wanted to and should have but I have no regrets.
It’s been the best year of my life.
And it’s now packed away neatly into two bags.