And so a month has passed - yes, my time here is up and it is time that a drag my leaden bones out of my routine and on to packing. It's been so nice to be back. The people, the places, the food... It's like Kimmy said - I never left. There was just this strange time warp and no one quite remembers what happened in between Sept and Dec.
But even through this holiday was great and exactly what I wanted, the fact that I'd be returning to Leicester made my time here feel horribly superficial. Why do all good things come to an end?
I don't know what to expect in going back to Leicester. I don't know what to think or how to behave and I'm very afraid I'll mess up and get it all wrong.

Because there's so much to do, so much to get wrong.

I know I'm coming back. I am determined to come back. A herd of elephants couldn't keep me there. But the problem is that once I'm gone I'm not anywhere. I am nowhere. And part of me questions whether nowhere could possibly be worse than Leicester.
And then part of me had become numb and unfeeling, uncaring. It's september all over again. I can't deal with this again. Not now. Now I need to care. Now I need to be sensitive to feelings of others. I can't actually just tell them to fuck off and then leave. I don't want to be this way. I actually want to be bothered. At the least I want to be able to feel joy when on the flight back home.
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