I want to go home 

  
Am I a failure for cutting my travel time down? 

I’m not this person. 

I am enjoying it. I have met incredible people. I have learned a lot and I have learned about myself. I have seen sites that you read about in books. 

I wanted to travel and explore. I wanted an adventure. I wanted to discover what my soul is about. My hopes and my dreams. I wanted to be alone. Independent woman. Fearless. Risk taker. Free spirit. 

I miss Andrew. I miss kissing him and I miss his laugh. 

I miss my hometown. 

I miss my car. 

I miss my friends, I miss dancing on their table and drinking wine. 

I miss my family, the farm and the sunset, my nephew and his tiny hands. 

I think I want to go home. This makes me feel like a failure. It also makes me feel ok. I am binging and purging again. I am not experiencing all the epiphanies I had expected. And that’s ok. I haven’t opened pandora a box and realized a million things about myself. 

I have learned. 

I have learned that I love home.

I love My life – no matter how chaotic things had become, no matter how difficult it was, no matter how scary and tragic last year was. All the downfalls make me who I am. 

The experiences, my hometown and my tiny room I live in. 

Am I disappointed? Yes. But I would be more disappointed in myself if I held up a front just to prove something, just to prove that I am strong enough to do this. While ironically being vulnerable and admitting that I want out is a much stronger move. 

I guess I realized that Happy people are generally ones that understand themselves, know what’s important to them, and have made choices based on those priorities. 

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